


Saving Grace

by unlikely_val



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Slow Burn, also Grace is bad at self-care, also wow I hate writing summaries, assumes knowledge of the game i'm not trying to novelize fallout 4 my dudes, brief mentions of miscarriage, brief mentions of unwanted/reluctant pregnancy, buckle in y'all, but nothing huge, it's the big one, other tags to be added as needed, rating is for safety at this point, so if missing meals/sleep squicks you out maybe don't read, some canon non-compliance, spoilers for the whole game i guess, super brief though and nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlikely_val/pseuds/unlikely_val
Summary: Cold, methodical, and socially awkward Grace woke up to a world turned upside down. As she travels the Commonwealth in search of her son, Shaun, she must decide what is more important: protecting herself or allowing the last of the ice around her heart to finally melt.





	1. Brightness Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have to start somewhere, so we may as well start here. 
> 
> Diamond City, the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, is Grace's best lead to find Shaun. But the detective she needs is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (As always, the only person to do any editing is me, so apologies for spelling/grammar/etc. I'll fix issues as I find them.)
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to add that I'm planning on naming the chapters for music that helped me write them. Brightness Calling is from the Fallout 4 OST and can be listened to here: https://youtu.be/Z8H99UWE9m8 as well as on Spotify.

It had taken her months to get to Diamond City.

Grace hadn't known what to expect, but it hadn't been the fucking baseball field. She also hadn't expected to run into an altercation at the gate. But, Grace walked into the repurposed stadium with the name of the man most likely to help her find Shaun: Nick Valentine. Courtesy of the mayor, no less.

Of course it couldn't have been that easy.

Valentine had to be a missing person himself, didn't he?

Grace exhaled through her nose, willing herself to be patient. She'd never been comfortable with crying people. Ellie Perkins, the woman in the detective agency, was no exception.

"Where was he going?" Grace asked, hoping to get Ellie back on track. Sitting here weeping wasn't going to get the detective back any sooner. Ellie smiled through her tears and scrubbed at her face with her hands.

"Uh, he was tracking down a missing person, a woman named Darla," Ellie said, "Nick tracked her to Park Street Station." Ellie took a deep breath and looked down at her desk. She gestured toward an open file, seemingly the only thing she'd been working on.

"May I?" Grace asked, looking at the folder. Ellie nodded, and Grace picked the file up, settling back in the chair facing Ellie's desk. It didn't tell her much, but it was nice to have something to do with her hands. She turned the pages, chewing a thumbnail as she read. Most of the information was about the missing woman, Darla, and the mob boss, Skinny Malone. Apparently his gang was called the Triggermen, and they packed a lot of heat. The notes were penned in a scratchy, but fairly legible hand. It almost looked like Valentine had written them in a moving vehicle. Those didn't still exist, did they? Grace considered this, but dismissed it as unimportant for the moment.

"I told him it was a trap," Ellie said quietly. "But he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does."

"What kind of a trap?" Grace asked quickly as she placed the file back on the desk and looked at the secretary. She was desperate for information. She needed to know what to expect.

"If you're going in there," Ellie said, turning her eyes back on Grace with a new light in them, "and I suggest you don't, by the way, I'd prepare for anything. Do you have guns?"

Grace nodded. "Anything else you can tell me about Valentine? What does he look like?"

Ellie dropped her eyes, suddenly coy. Grace was confused. Didn't she want to see her boss again?

"You'll know him when you see him," was all Ellie told her. Great.

Grace tried a few more ways of asking the same question, but Ellie didn't budge. Grace thanked her for her time and stood to go, but Ellie called out to her from behind the desk.

"You- it's just, you're a lot like him. Nick, I mean. Fact-oriented. If anyone can find him and get him out of this safely, I-I think it might be you," Ellie said.

_Appeal to the emotion_ , the voice of her long-dead mentor echoed in her mind. She'd heard Justine's voice more often lately. She'd always been the most clear-headed person Grace had known. It had made sense that Justine had become the voice of Grace's rationale in the chaos of the Commonwealth.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you can tell me about Nick?" Grace tried one last time. Maybe asking gently, using the detective's first name would convince her?

Ellie smiled sadly. "You'll know him when you see him," she said again.

 

* * *

 

Grace looked at the four walls of the room she'd bought at the Dugout Inn for the night. The strange dog she'd met just outside of Sanctuary was sleeping peacefully on the ratty couch against the wall. Grace wondered, not for the first time, which one of them had adopted the other. She'd just been calling him 'dog', unwilling to give him a name at least out loud. In her mind, she had started calling him Toby, but she wasn't prepared to make that attachment just yet. His paws twitched out of cadence, a dog dream driving him to run.

The bed was lumpy, but softer than she'd become accustomed to. Sitting against the broken headboard, she went over the information she'd managed to gather. She needed to get more ammo for whatever was waiting for her in Park Street Station. These Triggermen sounded much better organized than the raiders she was used to dealing with. She wanted to talk to try to speak with the journalist she'd met at the wall as well. If anyone could get her more information about Valentine, she was willing to bet the woman would be the person to see.

Grace leaned over and checked her bag. She'd also need to get more stimpacks. Grace sighed, taking note of the small handful of caps she had. Hopefully, Valentine, if he was still alive, would give her a good discount- or at least take payments in installments.

Grace laid down, not the least bit sleepy. The plan as she saw it was less than perfect: she had to storm a trap that managed to get the best of a seasoned private detective, he'd have to be alive, she'd have to deal with whatever danger there'd undoubtedly be, and then convince the detective to go back out into the field and help her find Shaun.

Well, if anyone can do it, it's the General of the Minutemen, she thought wryly. Doing the impossible, at a moment's notice.

She didn't sleep.

 

* * *

 

What had once been Fenway Park was no prettier by the thin light of dawn. Grace was privately happy she'd never been a big baseball fan.

The market proper didn't seem to be open yet, but a Mr. Handy was hawking 24 hour service. Grace decided that she'd rather deal with him than any other people just yet, and made her way over. Percy, as he introduced himself, traded her ammo and stimpacks and gave her a twinge in her chest. She missed Codsworth, but she couldn't justify putting him in further danger. He'd already put himself in enough waiting for her to return from the vault for two hundred years. It would be cruel to drag him out into the wasteland.

Grace glanced down at the dog sitting by her feet. He was free to come and go as he liked, she figured. Toby wasn't beholden to her like Codsworth. He could leave her at any point, her safety not his concern. As she considered unnecessary burdens, Grace made a decision.

"Hey, Percy," Grace said, looking back at the Mr. Handy unit.

"Yes ma'am?"

"How many caps can you give me for this?" she asked, pulling the wedding ring off of her finger. She held it up for Percy's visual sensors to take in clearly.

Percy processed for a few seconds and then said, "If you want to sell that, ma'am, I'm happy to give you two hundred and fifty caps."

Grace nodded, "Let's do it," she said. She supposed she had kept her ring for sentimentality, but traveling in the Commonwealth had quickly made her reconsider. She didn't want a piece of jewelry putting an even bigger bullseye on her back, and she knew by this point that raiders would kill for far less. Justine's voice, ghostly as ever, congratulated her practicality. Her dead husband would be no more or less dead if she had her wedding ring.

Her transaction complete, she thanked Percy and turned to go towards the enterence of Fen- no, of Diamond City. She could see a young girl standing on a box, holding papers. The journalist was standing next to her, along with Ellie Perkins, the private investigator's secretary. Grace started making her way towards them, but slowed and averted her eyes as the two women shared a brief kiss as they parted ways. Well, Grace supposed, it was nice that things like that still existed in the world.

Of course, that meant that the woman probably wouldn't give her much more to go on than the secretary had.

As Grace and Ellie passed each other in the street, Grace nodded to her, "Miss Perkins, good morning."

Ellie laughed softly and said, "Oh, I do hope you find Nick. You two would get on like a house fire."

"I hope I find him too," was all Grace could think to say. They parted ways, Ellie headed in the direction of the detective agency and Grace to the journalist who was studying her cooly from the doorway of the newspaper's office.

"Uh, good morning," Grace started, but the woman cut her off.

"So you're the one, huh? Well I'm glad you could get me back into town," she said. She looked Grace up and down once, and then continued, "Ellie tells me that you're going to try to find Nick."

"I'd like to, Miss, uh..?" Grace said, unsure if she'd actually been told the shorter woman's name or if she'd forgotten it.

"Oh! Piper. Piper Wright," the woman supplied and stuck her hand out. Grace shook it, glad she hadn't made an ass of herself.

"Grace," she said, introducing herself. If Piper thought it was odd she omitted her surname, she didn't let on.

"And this here is my sister, Nat. We run Publick Occurances, the Commonwealth's finest newspaper," Piper said proudly, gesturing to the girl on the box and the shop front behind her. The girl nodded at Grace, not unfriendly, but cagy enough to tell Grace that strangers were kept at arm's length.

Smart girl, Grace thought. 

"Well, Miss Wright-"

"Piper, please," she interrupted.

"Uh, okay. Piper. Like you said, I'm going to try to find Mr. Valentine-" Grace started again, but Piper cut her off with laughter.

"Oh man, Ellie was right about you, Blue," she said through her mirth. Grace didn't know what to say to that so she just looked at her, hoping for clarification. What was blue?

"Sorry, sorry. It's just- you and Nick. You're both weirdly formal. Makes sense for him, I guess, being a- well a detective, and all," Piper said quickly. Grace's ears perked up. There was definitely something the journalist and the secretary were keeping to themselves about Valentine.

Before she could ask, Piper continued, "But I guess some of those vaults really did keep those pre-war manners going, huh?"

Now that was something. She hadn't mentioned anything about a vault to either Ellie or Piper. Grace narrowed her eyes. Piper held her hands up, as if in surrender.

"I'm a journalist. I can spot a vault dweller from a mile away. You're not in your blue suit, but you're definitely not from around here," Piper said, a smile on her face. It wasn't an unkind look.

Grace nodded, "You could certainly say that." She had ditched the vault suit as soon as she had been able to, but apparently the scavenged jeans, piecemeal armor, and heavily patched leather jacket weren't helping her to blend in as much as she had hoped.

She looked down at her clothing and saw the Pip-Boy. Damn thing was probably like a billboard. Grace put that aside to focus again on Piper.

"But I had a few questions for you about, uh, Nick," Grace said, looking back at the shorter woman.

Piper nodded. "Nick's in a fair amount of trouble, if what El's been telling me is anywhere close to the way things shook out."

"Can you tell me anything about him?" Grace asked, unsure of what to expect but very sure that there was something being kept from her. What could possibly be so important to keep quiet about someone they were hoping her to find?

"Nothing Ellie hasn't already told you, I'm afraid," Piper said, and Grace sighed. A new tactic, then.

"Look, Piper," Grace said, "I'm willing to find this guy. I _need_ to find him so he can help me find someone else. But there's something that I'm not being told. I don't know what, but for me to do my best I need all the information I can get." Grace stared evenly into Piper's face. Piper's brows knitted for a moment, and Grace held her breath, hoping that the angle would work.

"Sorry, Blue," Piper said finally, looking past Grace and frowning slightly. "There's nothing else I can say."

Well that was confirmation at least. Grace's eyes darted to the girl on the box and then back to Piper. Piper's open face took on a pinched look.

"Don't," she said simply. The sister was off limits to talk to. Fine. Grace hadn't honestly expected the girl to say any more than her older sister, but it would have at least been an attempt. Grace just nodded.

"Well, thanks for your time, Piper," Grace said, shouldering her bag and looking for Toby. He was splayed out on the ground under a table in the Publick Occurances shopfront.

"Be careful," Piper said, and turned to busy herself with a stack of newspapers.

Grace left Diamond City frustrated, but at least with a plan. A plan was better than nothing.

 

* * *

 

The Triggerman dropped like a ton of bricks, a hole where his cheek had been. Grace felt the grim satisfaction she'd made an uncomfortable truce with. She still hadn't grown comfortable with killing, but self-defense was the new law of the land, and her aim had steadily improved.

She'd always been a quick study.

Grace crept from the shadow of the doorway, checking corners as she passed them. Toby had run ahead of her into the next room, but she heard no gunfire. She crouched, checking the dead man's pockets for ammo, caps, hell, anything that she could use. He didn't have much on him, but she took what he had. If nothing else, she could sell it.

_Be practical_ , she heard from Justine's office, centuries ago. _Number one is you. Be out for number one._

Toby had come to her side and nudged her wth his nose. He looked to the doorway he'd come from.

"We getting close, bud?" she asked. He twitched an ear and opened his mouth to show a panting smile.

Grace patted his head and stood. Dizziness took her by surprise, and she stood still for a moment, hoping no surprises would burst through the doorway while she gained her clarity back. Why was she dizzy? She hadn't crouched down for that long. As the sensation passed, she realized she hadn't eaten food for at least a day. When was the last time she ate?

Grace lifted her hands, but they were as steady as they usually were. Getting food could wait, then. It wasn't like she had any with her anyway, having elected to bring extra stimpacks in lieu of rations.

It was then she heard the voice coming from the next room. Grace looked down at Toby, who nudged her again with his nose and went towards the door ahead. Grace followed suit and peeked around the corner.

A large atrium was ahead of her. The open space was less than ideal, but there only seemed to be one person in the large room. A man, facing away from her and preoccupied with shouting through a window to someone on the other side. He was taunting whoever was in there. She'd missed the start of whatever conversation this was, but she heard a voice from the other side of the window taunt back.

She couldn't make out what his reply was, but the man on this side of the glass said, "You got nothin', Valentine."

Grace felt a rush of satisfaction. Valentine was alive, and presumably well enough to have a shouting match. She began to slowly creep forward, sticking to shadows as much as she could. If Valentine could keep the guy distracted, she would have the advantage.

Quietly as she could, she told the dog to wait. As much as she liked him, the click of his nails would be a risk she couldn't take. Toby laid down, watching her with alert eyes. Grace began the slow ascent up Vault Tec steel stairs toward the arguing men. Their shouting match was taking a turn; apparently Valentine had spotted the mob boss Malone deciding to take the guy off the payroll. Or he claimed he did.

Grace peeked around the corner to see the guy Valentine called Dino. Dino didn't look like he was having much fun. Grace raised her rifle, aimed for a moment and held her breath. Trigger finger squeezed and Triggerman dropped. She waited for a second, expecting others to come running, but none did. She looked down to the floor below, and Toby laid there, watching. She knew his ears would pick up footsteps before hers, but his posture was relaxed. Grace hurried over to the window, hard to see through covered in the aftermath of her shot through Dino.

"I dunno who you are," came the voice on the other side of the glass, "but we got about three minutes before his pals figure out muscles for brains here ain't coming back. Get this door open!"

Grace looked at the door and then at the terminal next to it.

"Well, let's put that Bachelor's degree to work," Grace said to herself, irritated that the engineering she'd loved and had wanted to persue further had been talked down. The law degree had been far less useful for her future than she'd been led to believe, save Justine's life advice.

Only half paying attention to the machine in front of her, she was surprised to hear a positive chime. The terminal had cracked in seconds. Grace almost scoffed; how had security gotten even worse over two hundred years?

The magnetic locks of the door released, and she turned. A lone man stood in the room, silhouetted by light.

Grace walked in, rifle held loosely in her hands. Before she could say anything, he struck a match and brought it to his face, lighting a cigarette.

"Gotta love the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario," he said as Grace took in the tattered face, glowing eyes, and definitely metal hand of the figure before her. "Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?"

That answered the question of what she hadn't been told by Ellie and Piper.

"Detective Valentine, I assume?" Grace asked, as he tossed the spent match to the floor.

The man- robot?- nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"My name is Grace. I have a case for you," Grace said, "a missing person, but I don't know how long they've been gone or- or where they might be." Grace finished lamely. Once she said it out loud, she realized just how few details she had.

Valentine looked at her hard and took another deep pull from the cigarette. Grace just looked back at him, wondering what he was waiting for. Finally, he nodded and tossed the cigarette away.

"I've done jobs with less. Somehow 'nice and simple' never makes it onto the menu in my world," he said. Grace quirked her eyebrows, an expression of commiseration.

"Shall we?" he asked, moving towards the door. "I, uh, need to wrap this up before I can take your case, y'see," he said.

"Alright," Grace said, and moved out into the atrium again. She looked down at what had so recently been Dino. Valentine stooped and grabbed Dino's gun.

"Ain't like he's using it," Valentine cracked. He looked at her and she shrugged. He wasn't wrong.

She followed Valentine downstairs where Toby greeted both of them with a wagging tail.

"Well hey, boy," said Valentine with a friendly pat to the dog's head. Grace looked at the dog curiously. The dog just looked back, head tilted.

Grace stowed her questions for later. Valentine needed to finish this case, and she was tired of being in vaults. As they moved through the labarynth of Vault Tec boxes, trash, and half-established rooms, he told her about the case of the missing woman, Darla.

She wasn't sure why he told her about it. Maybe, Grace thought, he was just going over the details out loud for his own benefit. Reviewing the details. When they heard movement ahead, they both crouched, peeking into a room. Two Triggermen were sat at a table playing cards.

Valentine looked at her, pistol in hand. "How do you wanna play this?" he asked her quietly.

Grace considered the men. They were relaxed, their weapons were holstered. They were having a friendly argument about someone else.

"No chance of talking them down, is there?" she asked, knowing the answer. Grace looked at the detective.

"'Fraid not," Valentine answered, and it looked like he meant it. She nodded.

She stood slowly, cautious of the chance for dizziness. When none hit her, she took a few steps to the doorway and took aim. One of the men saw her but it was too late for him. The second man dropped a split second later. Grace turned to see Valentine lowering his pistol.

"Hard and loud, huh?" he said, cracking a wry smile. "Well, it gets the job done. Feel bad for whoever cleans the floor, though."

Grace snorted. She didn't know what else this guy was, but he was definitely a card.

They found Skinny Malone and Darla with little effort. As the mob boss and the detective were trading barbs, Grace recalled something Mama Murphy had said to her. The fat man and the angry woman? Well these two certainly fit the bill. Couldn't hurt to give it a shot, she supposed. It seemed like they'd have to fight their way out of here if Darla had her way.

It was at this point that the angry woman brought attention to Grace. All eyes moved to her, and Grace figured, well, now or never.

She levelled a steely look at Skinny Malone, chin raised to look down her nose at the mob boss. _Use your height to your advantage_ , advised Justine from across an empty classroom in her mind. Grace's back straightened.

"Malone," she called out as evenly as she could, "you'd be wise to take a step back right now and remember the quarry and Lilly June on the rocks."

Malone turned a sickly color. And then he let them go.

Cool night air met Grace's face as they left the tunnel. Valentine took a breath, and said something about the sky. Grace was still trying to put together what had just happened.

Did she really just put her life on the line for one of Mama Murphy's hallucinations? What was wrong with her?

A few seconds later, Darla burst from the doors, fuming. She brushed past Grace and stalked up to Valentine. Grace readied her gun.

"Call off your bodyguard, synth," she hissed, "I'm going home. Malone's got no spine." She stormed off, not seeing the detective tip his hat in a sarcastic farewell.

Grace's mind greedily took in the new information. So, he wasn't a robot, not exactly. He was a synth. But from what she had understood, they looked just like humans. She looked at Valentine. He was certainly humanoid, but even without the obvious damage, his glowing eyes were a dead giveaway.

More questions, less answers. Grace pushed her curiosity down. There would be time for those questions later, and she didn't want to scare the detective off.

Suddenly those glowing eyes were on her. "Well," he drawled, "seems that case is wrapped up." He studied her and then started patting his coat. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. He shook out a cigarette and then offered the pack to her. She took one, hoping that it would push back her suddenly very present desire for food. He passed her the matches, and as she lit her cigarette, he took a deep breath.

"So, uh, what was all that business? The quarry and Lilly June?" he asked, apparently as curious about her as she was about him. 

Grace took a drag from her cigarette and then gave a sheepish smile. It felt strange on her face. How long had it been since she'd just smiled? Her face felt stiff.

"A gamble," she admitted, exhaling the smoke.

Valentine let out an easy chuckle. "Hell of a gamble. You ever head out to New Vegas, you bring me along."

Grace had no idea what he was talking about, and said as much.

Valentine looked at her like she'd said something funny. Instead of mocking her, he said, "Look, I'm willing to help you with your case, but I'd prefer to do that back at the office. I can either meet you there, or we can go together, if you don't have any other pressing business."

Grace looked down at Toby. His bright eyes looked back up at her.

"Up for another walk, bud?" she said to him. He gave a happy bark in response, feet already dancing beneath him.

"Let's head out," Grace said, tossing the butt of the cigarette to the ground.

"Well alright," the detective responded.

The three walked into the dark, pointed toward Diamond City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Grace will learn Dogmeat's name soon. Also this title is only a working title, so.. yeah. Also I'm a fan of the idea that Ellie never mentions Nick being a synth to the SS for fear that they won't want to help a synth, so that had to make it in here. 
> 
> Come talk to me at unlikely-val.tumblr.com!


	2. Black City Skyline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and the private detective make it back to Diamond City, and Grace learns a few new things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge amount of thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, and left comments so far. Y'all make me considerably less anxious to post my nonsense here. 
> 
> As always, apologies for spelling/grammar/etc. Further apologies for any legal jargon I may have mangled. I am in no way a lawyer, so the best I can do is Google and hope. 
> 
> Black City Skyline by Bohren & Der Club of Gore can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DR0gGXaBm74 and on Spotify!

It didn't take long for them to run into trouble.  
  
"Damn ferals," Valentine bit out, shooting one in the leg.  
  
Grace agreed. They moved far faster than she'd like, and with no high ground in sight, she was forced to be much more close-quarters than she preferred. She reloaded her rifle, aimed and took one's arm off. Another shot put it down. Off to her left, she heard the dog wrestling with another in the dark.  
  
"Shit!" came from behind her. Grace's head swiveled around, to see Valentine pistol whip another. Grace's mind sped to understand when she realized he was probably out of ammo. Dino hadn't had a lot on him, and neither had the few other Triggermen they'd had to fight through. Grace opened her bag and grabbed a box of ammunition. She hoped she'd seen his gun clearly enough to guess the right kind.  
  
"Heads up!" she called to him, and tossed the box. Valentine caught it deftly. He pulled out a few bullets, loaded his gun and finished off the stunned ghoul at his feet.  
  
"Thanks," he said as he stepped over the mess.  
  
"No problem," Grace answered. She looked around for the dog, and heard a whimper.  
  
She took off like a shot toward the noise and found the dog a few yards away. A dead feral was close by, the apparent source of the dog's serious-looking wounds.  
  
Grace dropped to her knees, reaching out to check the injuries. Valentine's shoes appeared in her peripheral vision a few seconds later.  
  
"Do stimpacks work on dogs?" she asked him, digging through her bag. This is why she preferred the high ground approach, damn it all.  
  
The detective had crouched down to lay his intact hand on the dog's head, a soothing gesture.  
  
"Yeah," he said, and watched her pull out a stimpack. She petted the dog, looking for a good place to inject the medicine. Grace decided on his hindquarters. She stuck the needle in, petting the dog along his flank.  
  
"You'll be alright in a minute, bud," she said quietly. The dog just whimpered.  
  
As the medicine began its work, stitching the wound closed, Valentine looked over at Grace.  
  
"So how did you and Dogmeat come to meet?" he asked.  
  
"Dogmeat?" Grace asked. She looked at the dog laying in front of her. "That's his name?"  
  
Valentine huffed a laugh, "What have you been calling him?"  
  
"Just dog, I guess," Grace replied. "Though he was about to be Toby."  
  
"Toby?" he asked. Dogmeat gave another, stronger-sounding, whimper. Grace assumed that meant the new name was voted down.  
  
Grace ducked her head and busied her hands with her bag again. She felt foolish. "Yeah. Uh, it's silly, Toby was the dog in _The Sign of Four_ -" she trailed off. How many books had been lost in the war? A new pang of loss reverberated through her.  
  
"The great detective's hound friend," Valentine supplied. Grace glanced up at him. He was looking at her like she'd said something funny again.  
  
"Oh, I guess- I guess that one survived the bombs," she said, looking back down into her bag. Of course people still read books. What had she been thinking?

Grace wondered if he had been programmed to have knowledge of fictional detectives or if he'd read for fun. She decided there was no tactful way to ask, and she still needed his help. No point in saying something possibly offensive.  
  
They were quiet as the stimpack healed the dog before them. Once Dogmeat pulled himself to his feet and shook himself off, Grace gave him a pat and stood as well. The dizziness was back instantly. She caught herself, and held her hand up to stop Valentine who had reached out to steady her.  
  
"It's fine," she said quickly, "it's just past my dinner time," she said, hating how weak her voice sounded. She blinked the world back into color.  
  
"Well, let's get to Diamond City. Best noodles in the Commonwealth," Valentine said.

* * *

  
  
By the time they'd reached the wall, the sun was rising. Grace knew she should feel exhausted. She'd been up for days, and couldn't remember eating in at least that long. But she'd found and retrieved the private detective, and she was one step closer to finding Shaun. Grace felt fantastic.  
  
They passed by the Publick Occurances office and the girl, Nat, on the box.

Nat launched herself off of the box and onto Valentine in a cheerful hug. She said that Piper was at the agency with Ellie.  
  
"I think they're kissing again," Nat said conspiratorially. Valentine chuckled.  
  
"We'll knock first," he said to the girl and turned to Grace.  
  
"Want to get some food before we start?" he asked.  
  
"I'd rather get the work out of the way first," Grace said, not sure how much detail she'd be getting into. She didn't want to do that on a full stomach.  
  
Valentine made no comment, but led her through the alleyways to the agency. As they walked, she looked again at the Valentine Detective Agency signs. Having remembered the fat man and the angry woman, Grace's mind filled in the first half of Mama Murphy's drug addled speech. A bright heart, surrounded by darkness. The man she didn't expect, who would help her find what she was looking for. She snuck a look at the detective. She hadn't believed the old woman at first, but..  
  
_Evidence only speaks as loudly as we want it to_ , Justine reminded her, impatient. An admonishment, but also a reminder.  
  
She shook her head, willing rationality to take hold. Visions? What next, miracles? Maybe she was more tired than she had thought.  
  
Valentine didn't knock, but he did take his time in opening the door. He stepped in, and called out, "Ellie? You here?"  
  
"Nick?" came a call, and Ellie's face appeared around the corner. She looked close to tears again. Grace followed him inside, closing the door behind her.  
  
"Who else, doll?" the detective asked as Ellie flung her arms around him. He laughed and hugged her back, his hat askew on his head. Grace looked past the pair to see Piper standing behind Ellie, beaming. Grace raised her hand in a wave. Piper laughed.  
  
"Good to see you, Blue," she said, and sounded like she meant it. Grace tried to smile back, but was interrupted.  
  
Ellie had released her boss to turn to Grace. For a short and very horrible second, Grace thought Ellie was going to hug her too, but thankfully all she did was grab Grace's hands in her own.  
  
"Thank you," Ellie said, her face pink and eyes bright.  
  
"I- uh, sure. Don't mention it," Grace said, hoping that would be enough. Her face felt hot. Valentine took Ellie's shoulders and pulled her away from Grace, who stuffed her hands into her pockets. She willed her shoulders down from around her ears. Valentine watched her as he took a seat at Ellie's desk. Grace looked away and tried to shake the sudden feeling of transparency.    
  
"All right, shall we get to it?" Valentine asked, and Grace nodded. Anything to get that uncomfortable scene over with.  
  
"I'll see you later," said Ellie to Piper, who obviously wanted to stay and listen to Grace's statement. The less people to hear this, the better, Grace figured, already dreading the task.  
  
After the door closed behind Piper and Ellie grabbed a clipboard, Grace settled into the chair across the desk from a now very business-like detective. Valentine fixed his eyes on her and said, "All right, start from the beginning. You said you're looking for someone?"

"My son, Shaun," Grace said, confirming his memory.

"All right. When was the last time you saw him?" Valentine asked.

Grace blanked. How to tell someone you were from the past? She took a deep breath.  
  
"I was in vault 111, the- the day the bombs dropped," she said. She sounded crazy, she knew she did. Ellie lowered her clipboard slowly.  
  
"That would make you-" the secretary started.  
  
"Yeah I look good for my age," Grace said, looking down at her hands. They had knotted themselves together in her lap.  
  
"How?" Valentine asked, tone carefully neutral.  
  
"They froze us. We didn't know they would, but- well, that's not important," Grace said, dismissing the irrelevant detail.  
  
_Just the facts. Don't let them see you bleed_ , Justine's voice warned.  
  
"Nate- my husband- was carrying Shaun. They were in the same cryochamber," Grace continued. "We were unfrozen, I don't know when. My cryochamber didn't open, but theirs did. There were people," Grace looked at the ceiling, caught off guard by how easily the pain surfaced.  
  
_Just the facts._  
  
"A man and a woman," Grace continued. She wasn't going to sit there and weep like a child. "Nate was trying to stop them, they wanted to take Shaun. The man shot him."  
  
_Just the facts._  
  
Grace clenched her jaw and looked at Valentine. His face was blank, thankfully. Grace wouldn't have been able to stomach a look of pity.  
  
"Cold-blooded killers, but only after something went wrong. Hm. What did these people look like?" he asked.  
  
"The woman was wearing some kind of protective suit- it might have been some kind of hazard suit? The man was tall and bald. His clothes were dark and he had something on his left arm, it looked metal, but it wasn't a Pip-Boy," Grace forced herself to think back, to be in that cryochamber again.  
  
_Don't let them see you bleed._  
  
"His voice was rough, and he had a- a scar on his face. Over his left eye. He called me the backup," Grace trailed off, the cryochamber muffled her voice. She felt cold. The facts were trapped, frozen with her. Her ears were clogged with gunfire. She watched the steam curl off the black stain down Nate's chest. Ice was in her blood, sharp and numbing-  
  
Valentine's blazing yellow eyes brought her back. He'd moved from behind the desk to crouch in front of her, careful to give her space.  
  
"You're alright," he said softly. "Is there anything else, were they wearing armor, like you?"  
  
Grace's limbs were suddenly aware of the weight of the makeshift armor she wore. The sensation was grounding. Gratitude flowed over her for the detective.  
  
"No," she said. "If they were wearing armor, it was either thin or well manufactured."  
  
Valentine stood and made his way back around the desk. Grace felt Dogmeat's soft head fall in her lap. She looked down to see him staring up at her. She petted his muzzle absentmindedly.  
  
The detective retook the seat behind the desk. "This doesn't sound like a random hit. Too well organized. There's groups that take people, but this doesn't sound like a raider party. And I think you'd have noticed if these folks were big and green."  
  
Grace nodded, "They didn't seem like raiders. And they weren't super mutants, I've dealt with them." Grace gave a humorless smile, but Valentine gave her an appreciative look.  
  
"Not a lot of people can say that," he said. Grace just shrugged. "That leaves the Gunners.. and the Institute, of course," he said. He didn't sound convinced, and Grace was inclined to agree.   
  
She'd come up against the Gunners before as well, but had only heard what sounded like campfire stories about the Institute. Surely they didn't have anything to do with her. That wouldn't make sense.  
  
Valentine leaned back in his chair, "A scar, tall, bald, rough voice.." he looked at Grace. "You said he called you the backup?"  
  
Grace nodded.  
  
"Ellie, pull the file on the Kellogg case," he said suddenly. Ellie scurried to a file cabinet.    
  
"Descriptions match down to the scar," Ellie called out. "Mercenary, high-level stuff, but no known employer."  
  
Valentine turned to look at Ellie, "And he bought a house here in town, right? And he had a kid with him, didn't he?"  
  
Ellie nodded, "In the West Stands. The boy was somewhere around ten years old."  
  
Grace's head swam. "Are you saying he's here? He's in town?"  
  
Valentine shook his head and turned back to her, "Vanished a while back, but that house is still there. Think you're up for a little walk to check out his last known address?"  
  
Grace was on her feet before Dogmeat had time to move. The dog huffed at her and went to lay down somewhere else in the agency.  
  
But she had stood too fast. The dizziness she'd managed to fight off before finally got the better of her. Grace pitched forward and her hands caught her weight on the edge of the desk. She cursed, trying to blink away the black tunnel blocking her vision.  
  
"Absolutely not," said Ellie, sounding much closer and more stern than Grace had expected. Grace wanted to raise a hand to signal that she was fine, but the words didn't come and her hands were sluggish. Her eyes finally agreed to cooperate, and Grace slowly sank back down into the chair.  
  
"Sorry," Grace said, "stood up too fast. I'm fine." She didn't look at either of them, embarrassed.  
  
"How long has it been since you've eaten?" asked Valentine.  
  
"What's today?" Grace asked back. Was it three days? Maybe.  
  
"And how long has it been since you've slept?" was Valentine's next question.  
  
"However long it's been since I ate" Grace said, a spark of irritation in her voice. She didn't need mothering, she needed to keep moving. She looked up at Valentine, who had stood to lean on the side of the desk. It was a purposefully casual stance. Grace's hackles rose.  
  
There was a silence, and then he said, "I can't make you rest or eat, but I can refuse to take your case until you do."  
  
"That's absurd," Grace said. What did he care if she was dead on her feet? A dead person's money spent the same, and she was willing to pay.  
  
"That's Nick," Ellie said helpfully. She was carrying a blanket. Where had she gotten that from?  
  
Grace didn't know how it happened, but she had been sheparded into a bed. Ellie pulled the blanket over her. Grace tried to say something, but exhaustion pulled her eyelids down. The last thing she heard was a quiet conversation, far away.  
  
"She reminded me a lot of you," the woman said. The man huffed a laugh and lit a cigarette.

* * *

  
  
Grace woke with a start. Everything hurt. Where the hell was she?  
  
She swung her complaining legs over the side of the bed and realized her shoes were still on. As was her armor and her Pip-Boy. She looked down, dazed, at the blanket still covering her lap. Dogmeat was sprawled on the floor next to the bed. He cracked a sleepy eye at her and then closed it again, apparently comfortable where he was. The events of the past few days came flooding back and she groaned.  
  
"I'm an asshole," she said to herself, scrubbing her hand down her face.  
  
"And hungry, I'll bet," came a voice from another room.  
  
Grace jumped violently. "Jesus- _fuck_ ," escaped her before she put the voice to the detective she'd pulled out of the vault. She pulled herself up and rounded the corner to see him sitting at the other desk in the small agency's office. He looked at her.  
  
"You always this charming in the morning?" he asked dryly.  
  
"Should have seen me getting used to a world without fresh coffee," Grace said, utterly at a loss. What was the procedure for practically passing out in the middle of a missing persons case? Her hands, desparate for something to do, pulled her hair out of the loose knot on top of her head and retied it.  
  
Valentine stood. "Well, you could probably do with more sleep, but how about some food?" he asked.  
  
Grace's stomach perked up and let out a low but very audible growl. Grace exhaled slowly, closing her eyes against the betrayal her body seemed committed to. _Pick a better hill to die on_ , Justine's voice told her. She opened her eyes and nodded. She grabbed her bag from the foot of the bed and gave Dogmeat a pat. The dog didn't stir.  
  
"Come on, you can tell me if Tak's noodles really are as good as the pre-war stuff," Valentine said as he ushered her out of the agency.

* * *

  
  
Takahashi, as it turned out, had noodles even better than she remembered. The first bowl was gone in minutes, scalding her mouth. Grace asked for another and took more time with the second bowl to avoid further burns. She blew across the piping hot bowl, watching the sky change colors. She must have slept the whole afternoon away. As she ate, Valentine sat next to her, quietly smoking.  
  
When Grace put her second empty bowl down and thanked Takahashi, Valentine looked over to her.  
  
"Verdict?" he asked.  
  
"I'm going to bribe him for the recipe," Grace said looking over to Takahashi. She felt so much better with a proper meal in her gut.  
  
"Others have tried," Valentine said.  
  
"Not surprised," Grace said, and then put all her attention back on the detective. "I'd like to get back to the case, Mr. Valentine. You said there was a man matching my description who used to live here?"  
  
"Just Nick is fine," he said, "but I had a feeling you'd want to get back to it." He looked at her for a moment and then started, "Listen, I didn't want Ellie to hear this, but I think you should know; everything I've found on this guy is bad news." Valentine looked down and grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the countertop, lighting one and offering the pack to Grace. She took one and lit it, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"He's not just a mercenary," he continued, blowing smoke out of his nostrils, "he's a professional. Quick, clean and efficient. He doesn't have enemies because they're all dead." Nick looked back at her. "Except you."  
  
Of course.  
  
Grace took a thoughtful drag off her cigarette. "You really think this guy, uh-"  
  
"Kellogg," Nick supplied.  
  
Grace nodded her thanks, "You really think this Kellogg is the guy?"  
  
Nick nodded, "Beyond identifying marks being dead on and all, this case has his M.O. all over it. Small team, well-funded and well-organized."  
  
Grace turned that information over in her mind. If the boy this Kellogg had with him was Shaun, then her timeline was off by a decade or so. But, there was no evidence that the boy and Shaun were the same person. Not yet, at least.  
  
But there was evidence Kellogg was dangerous, which meant that no matter who the boy was, he was probably in a less than ideal situation. And there was only one place she could get more information. She took a pull from the cigarette.  
  
"Want to check out that house now?" Grace asked. Nick nodded, stood, and handed caps to Takahashi.  
  
"Oh, no, I can get-" Grace started, and reached into her bag but her protest was waved off.    
  
"It's this way," Nick said. He led them down an alleyway and up a staircase to a dilapidated looking house. He tossed his cigarette over the side of the stairs.  
  
"Keep an eye out, will you? See if I can get this open," Nick said as he crouched down to fiddle with the door's lock. Grace leaned on the railguard, looking out over Diamond city. Less people were milling about than she had expected at night time in the city. She looked down at the stub of the cigarette in her fingers. It was out. She flicked it over the rail.  
  
"Damn," the detective said quietly. He appeared at her elbow. "That's one tough lock," he said, nodding to the house.  
  
"Mind if I take a crack?" Grace asked.  
  
"I was just about to suggest it," Nick replied, sounding amiable about the idea. "I'll keep watch."  
  
Grace went to the door and heard the telltale cadence of a cigarette being lit behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Nick taking a pose similar to the one she had taken, leaning over the railing. A chain-smoking synth detective was possibly the strangest person she'd met so far in the Commonwealth, but at least he didn't give her grief about picking locks, she figured.  
  
Grace turned back to the door, crouching down to look at the lock. She took a bobby pin from her bag and inserted it into the keyhole. It was tough, she'd give him that. Grace made a mental note to try to make some proper lock picking tools soon. The tension of her clumsy screwdriver had to be feather-light as she set the pins, but her patience paid off as the lock opened with a click and the doorknob turned.  
  
Behind her, Valentine let out a low whistle. "After this, I'm going to get you to tell me why you can open doors without keys," he said, a sly look on his face. Grace couldn't help her low laugh.  
  
"The accused invokes her fifth amendment privileges," she said, pushing the door open. Then she stopped, "I guess there's no fifth amendment anymore, is there?"  
  
"Self-incrimination ain't exactly high on the list of concerns for the people of the Commonwealth," Nick said with a shrug. He was making that face at her again, like she'd said something entertaining.  
  
Grace went inside the house. It was dark, sparsely furninshed, and smelled stale. No one had been in here for a long time.  
  
It didn't take them long to find the hidden button under the desk. The concealed door swung open, and revealed another room. A table next to a worn armchair was littered with bullets, empty beer bottles, and cigar stubs.  
  
"San Francisco Sunlights," Grace read off of the band around one of the cigars.  
  
"Interesting brand," Nick said from behind her. Grace turned and looked at him.  
  
"Any suggestions?" she asked, still turning the cigar around in her hands.  
  
Nick thought for a moment and then said, "What about Dogmeat? Commonwealth mutt like him could track a man's scent for miles." Then he smiled and added "Even if he isn't a bloodhound like Holmes's Toby."  
  
Grace flushed, not sure if he was making fun of her. Dogmeat barked, tail waving in agreement, and Grace forgot to be embarassed.  
  
"Sounds like he's eager for the job," Nick said with a look at the dog. "Why don't you let him have a whiff of that cigar, see if he can pick up on the trail?"  
  
Grace held the cigar out to the dog, who gave it a few sniffs and then barked and bounded past her to the door. He pawed at it and whined, looking back at Grace.  
  
"Uh, look," Nick said, and Grace turned back to him. Of course, she thought. She'd forgotten to even work out payment. She began to reach for her bag, hoping what caps she had with her were enough, but the detective went in another direction. "I know this is.. personal business. If you need to face Kellogg on your own, just say so."  
  
Was he offering to back her up? It was a strange way of doing so, if that was what he was trying to say. Grace thought back to Codsworth in Sanctuary, helping what was left of the Minutemen rebuild the town. Valentine had only just gotten free himself, and he had his own job to do. No, she couldn't put anyone else in harm's way. She'd follow Dogmeat to Kellogg, and then send the dog to Sanctuary once they'd arrived.  
  
The needs of the many, she figured. Justine was silent.  
  
"Thanks for your help," Grace said, "what do I owe you for your time?"  
  
He waved his hand at her, "Consider us square, you pulled my bacon out of the fire in that vault." He looked at her, concern all over his face. "Kellogg is dangerous," he said. "But so are you. You can handle anything the Commonwealth throws at you, that merc included."  
  
Grace just nodded. The vote of confidence was something, she supposed, even from someone who knew next to nothing about her.  
  
"Bye, Nick," Grace said and pulled a crooked smile. She hoped that would make him stop looking at her like a kicked puppy.  
  
"Hopefully not forever," he said, tone marginally lighter. "I want to see you and your kid safe and sound when you get back."  
  
She didn't know how to respond to that, so Grace just nodded and walked the few steps to the door. Dogmeat looked up at her impatiently. Without looking back, she opened the door and walked into the night, leaving the detective alone in the dark house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me! unlikely-val.tumblr.com


	3. Holding Out For A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace meets Kellogg and Doctor Sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit short. Same apologies apply re: editing and general knowledge. 
> 
> The Nothing But Thieves version of Holding Out for a Hero can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZtHThqn2hI and on Spotify!

"I hate deathclaws," Grace told Dogmeat and pressed an unsteady hand to her sweaty forehead. Grace looked down at the dead thing, all claws and horns and teeth. What the hell had those things been before the bombs? At least mole rats made sense.  
  
Grace's pulse slowed as her body struggled to find equilibrium. Dogmeat whined eager to lead her, and she forced herself to start walking. It felt like he'd led her halfway across the Commonwealth. The edge of a town was in view, and Grace realized she'd been here before. She'd passed through this town on the way to- was it the Poseidon Reservoir? One of the settlements?- for the Minutemen.  
  
A pang of guilt went through her. Had she passed right by Shaun?  
  
_Supposition_ , Justine said. Grace nodded and followed Dogmeat to the steps of Fort Hagen. He pawed at the front doors, blocked off by debris and sandbags.  
  
"In here, boy?" Grace asked, looking at the door. She'd have to find another way in. The dog barked and sat, tail slowly sweeping behind him. He looked tired.  
  
"You deserve a rest, bud," she said, giving him a pat on the head. "Why don't you go on back to Sanctuary? I'll meet you there," she said. Dogmeat looked at her, head tilted. He sank to rest on his belly, as if it were a counteroffer.  
  
"Really? You pick now to not understand me?" Grace asked and tried to not acknowledge that she was having an argument with a dog. A scarily smart dog, but a dog nonetheless.  
  
Grace sighed and began the search for a way into the fort. The dog, thankfully, stayed put.  
  
The door in the parking deck wasn't hard to find. She crept up the stairs, and spotted a Protectron in its charging pod. She stopped, and considered. It would be helpful to have walking around, and if need be, a good distraction. Grace decided the few seconds it would take to get the Protectron running would be worth it. Halfway to the robot, she heard a sound.  
  
"Scanning.." an oddly static voice said. It wasn't another Protectron. They didn't sound like that.  
  
And then something came around the corner. It was spindly and clanking and- it had glowing yellow eyes.  
  
Grace threw herself behind the corner she'd just rounded. These must be synths, like Nick. They didn't sound like him.

One of them called out, "Asset Kellogg is in danger. Eliminate hostile."  
  
Whatever fear Grace had felt drained away to cold certainty. Steady hands raised her rifle as the synth poked its head around her corner. The blast knocked the synth's head clean from its shoulders. Bolstered, Grace picked her way through the fort, a trail of metal skeletons in her wake. It was a grueling maze of offices and collapsed walls. More than once, she had to double back, only to find more synths had taken the hallways she'd cleared.

She stopped to pick up some purified water cans from a room that looked like it had once been some kind of meeting area. Out of habit, she looked at her Pip-Boy and saw that she had left Diamond City almost half a day ago. Irritated at the loss of time, she decided to keep moving.  
  
Kellogg was more annoying than she had expected. He'd begun taunting her through the fort's speakers long before she'd gotten close to him. Why he hadn't left with the ample time he had, she didn't know. When he announced that he was behind the door directly in front of her, Grace almost felt grateful. Her task was nearly complete, though she didn't expect Kellogg would be conversational.

Grace had been wrong.  
  
Kellogg was downright chatty. Face to face with the man who had killed Nate and taken Shaun, Grace was underwhelmed. He'd seemed more frightening with the cryochamber door between them. Logically, she knew that he was a dangerous person.  
  
_But you're dangerous too_ Nick Valentine had said to her as she left. Maybe he'd had her pegged better than she thought.  
  
Kellogg was a man that didn't have her pegged in the slightest. He saw a scared housewife, an angry widow and mother. Grace fought to keep her expression neutral as he monologued. He coudn't have been more wrong about her, she realized. She was here for information, not vengence. Although she did plan to kill him once she had what she wanted, but only because she figured he'd try to kill her first.

He gave the information freely: the Institute had Shaun.

Grace raised her gun. No, he hadn't had her pegged at all.   
  
The synths behind Kellogg raised their weapons and Kellogg shimmered out of sight. Of course he'd have a Stealth Boy.

Since he hadn't immediately blown her head off, Grace figured he was waiting to see what she did. So, she threw herself behind makeshift cover and started taking the synths out. They made it easier on her than they could have, for some reason going to her rather than making her leave her cover. As she finished off the last one from behind a table, a blast seemed to push through her. Searing, blinding pain followed but she couldn't tell from where. Grace pushed down panic and tried to raise her rifle, but her left arm didn't obey. She looked down to see a gush of dark blood from her shoulder.  
  
"Fuck. You," Grace ground out. She grabbed a laser pistol from one of the dead synths and scanned around the room, pressed to the table. A shimmer of movement gave away Kellogg's position. She fired until the gun was empty of ammunition, and ducked down again. Grace waited for a few seconds and then chanced a look around the upended furniture. Kellogg's cloaking had worn off, and she saw with triumph that he was hit at least once in the gut.

For the first time, closing the distance between herself and her would-be killer was an appealing idea to her.  
  
Should have gotten one of those barb-wire wrapped baseball bats, she thought to herself as she pulled herself up to stand.  
  
Kellogg was trying to regroup. but Grace managed to rush him and kick the gun out of his hands. He sat at her feet, back pressed against a wall. The laser pistol must cauterize when it wounds, she thought, looking at the scorched mess that was Kellogg's abdomen. He wheezed.  
  
She couldn't raise her rifle to finish him off, so she swept his pistol off the floor, willing her feet to stay under her. Kellogg wheezed again, almost like he was trying to say something. Grace had heard enough of him for a lifetime.  
  
She fired one shot into his heart, and Kellogg lay still. For good measure, she emptied the gun into his chest, left arm dangling uselessly at her side.  
  
Wobbly legs took her to a nearby chair. She rummaged through her bag to find medicine. Anything to stop her from bleeding out.

She peeled her leather jacket off. It was soaked down the left arm with her blood. That probably wasn't going to be fun to put back on.  
  
Med-X was first, to ease the pain. It did a good job. Grace looked down at her shoulder. Tentatively, she brought her right hand up to wrap around her torso, touching the back of her left arm. It was hard to tell, but there didn't seem to be an exit wound. The bullet was still in her, then. Not ideal, but then again, neither was getting shot in the first place.  
  
Two stimpacks later, the wound was no longer openly bleeding. The bullet would have to get removed, but that was a concern for later. She considered using a third stimpack, but decided against it. She didn't want that bullet staying in her, and she'd seen the scarring stimpacks left around foreign objects. Better to be sparing.  
  
She turned back to Kellogg and clenched her jaw.  
  
_Any information is useful in the right light_ , Justine reminded her. Grace nodded, and moved towards the dead man. He had a password on him, as well as some strange augmentations. Grace didn't need to take those, but she did. There was a dark pleasure in ripping them out that she allowed herself to embrace, if only for a moment.  
  
Covered in both her own and Kellogg's blood, Grace sat in the chair again. She drank a can of purified water, thankful she'd bothered to pick them up, and looked around the room. Robotic carnage was everywhere, dead yellow eyes stared at her from every direction, and she wondered what Valentine would have done if she'd brought him along. Would he have been able to talk them down?  
  
Grace shook her head. No, thoughts like that wouldn't help her. She'd been right to come alone.  
  
A lit terminal caught her eye. Kellogg's password burned in her pocket.  
  
"Well," she croaked out to the room of corpses, "while I'm here I may as well do a little reading."

* * *

  
  
Grace emerged from the fort an hour later. Her head was spun with information and blood loss. A soft whimper greeted her.  
  
"Hey Dogmeat," she said softly, less irritated with his refusal to go back to Sanctuary than she had been. The dog looked happy to see her too.  
  
A shadow passed overhead. She looked up and nearly sat down where she was.  
  
Of course her day couldn't just be tracking down the man who murdered her husband and kidnapped her son, finding out the most shadowy group in the entire Commonwealth had employed him to do said murdering and kidnapping, and dealing with his rambling before she had a chance to put him down.

There also had to be some kind of airship floating ominously overhead.  
  
"People of the Commonwealth," came an amplified voice from the airship, "do not interfere. We are the Brotherhood of Steel."

That's reassuring, Grace thought dryly. She watched Dogmeat's eyes track the movement of the craft, at least confirming to Grace that she wasn't losing her mind.  
  
She kept a wary eye on the massive shape as she made the slow trip back to Diamond City.

* * *

  
  
Grace knocked on the door of the agency. She didn't know who to talk to, but she was willing to bet Nick was as good a starting place as any. She just hoped he was there.

She used her right hand to pull her Pip-Boy up, noting how her left shoulder resisted the motion. It was after ten at night. She'd been gone for just over a day. Travel back from the fort had been slow and no less dangerous than it had on the way there. Dogmeat laid down behind her in the alleyway, clearly ready for another nap.  
  
The door pulled open. Nick stood there in shirt sleeves, with a cigarette in his mouth and his hat tilted a little away from his face. Grace wondered vaguely if he ever took his hat off.  
  
"What happened? Where's your boy?" he asked, and then his eyes trailed down her bloodied face to her shoulder. He dropped the cigarette. "Good God, what happened?" he looked at her. She realized she probably looked much worse than she felt.  
  
"Got shot," Grace said. That, apparently, was the wrong answer.  
  
Valentine grabbed his coat from beind the door and then grabbed her right arm with his intact hand. The agency door slammed behind him as he marched her down the alleyway.  
  
"Where are you dragging me?" Grace asked, trying to be patient. Her right arm buzzed where Nick's hand held it, even through the leather of her jacket sleeve. It felt like her arm was ready to vibrate out of its skin.  
  
"To the doctor, where do you think?" he snapped back.  
  
"My arm can wait, stop, will you?" Grace dug her heels in. Nick rounded on her.  
  
"Look-" he started, but Grace cut him off.  
  
"The Institute," she said. Nick blinked. "Kellogg was working for them. They're the ones that took Shaun." Grace sighed. "What can you tell me about them?"  
  
"This can wait until the doc-" he started, but then looked down, and seemed to realize he was still holding her arm. Grace rocked back, freeing herself from his grasp. His face clouded. "Oh- I'm, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"  
  
"I'll live," Grace said, and tucked her arm close to her stomach, "but I need to know about the Institute. If you know anything, or if you know someone who does-"  
  
"No one does," Nick said.  
  
Surely that couldn't be right. No one? Grace tried to process, but he kept talking.  
  
"That's the thing about the Institute," he sighed, and looked down to her shoulder. "The truth of it is that people smart enough to build something like me are smart enough to cover their tracks. No one knows why they do anything, what they do it for, or where they are."  
  
"They built you?" Grace asked, unable to stop herself. Any information could help.  
  
"Yeah," Nick said, "but there's some kind of security protocol. Either wipes or blocks the memory of any synth that gets left behind, manages to escape, or is tossed out with the garbage." He sounded bitter.

Grace kept prompting him.  
  
"There were synths protecting Kellogg," she said, "but they weren't like you."  
  
Nick snorted, "Yeah, that'll be the gen one and two models. Dumb as a box of rocks, but they can point and shoot." He looked at her shoulder again, "Did one of them-"  
  
"Kellogg," Grace said. "Had to use a Stealth Boy to do it though, the coward." Her shoulder hurt more now. She wondered if it was bleeding again.    
  
Nick gave her a serious look and said "I had a feeling about you, kid. You're plucky." He looked down the alleyway toward the market. "Look, you need the doc. I'm not going anywhere, but if that gets infected, well, it won't be pretty."  
  
Grace looked back to the door of the agency and saw Dogmeat looking at them sleepily. He'd be there for the rest of the night, if Grace had to guess. And she had to agree, yes, an infected gunshot wound would set her back on finding Shaun. In the long run, the doctor was a good call.  
  
Grace nodded, and Nick led her through the dark city.

 

* * *

 

  
The bullet dropped into a metal bowl Grace couldn't see. The medical table was cold through the thin t-shirt she wore. Her ruined jacket lay across her abdomen like a bloody blanket.  
  
"There we go," Doctor Sun said, more cheerful than he had been when Nick had knocked on the door of his house. The walk to the clinic hadn't been long, but had been filled with a constant stream of complaints about reckless people who insisted on getting shot at all hours.  
  
Grace had wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the thought, but decided that it would be a poor decision.  
  
Sun administered two stimpacks to the open wound, applied a dressing, and wrapped it in gauze.  
  
"You'll want to drink a lot of water for the next week," he said, putting his instruments aside. "The stimpacks will get this healed up completely in a few days, but they're dehydrating."  
  
Grace could already feel the strange sensation of her shoulder repairing itself. A sudden, very sharp pain went through her shoulder. If it hadn't taken her breath away, she would have screamed, pride be damned.  
  
Sun nodded, "That'll be your severed nerve. Don't do anything strenuous for the next week or the nerve damage could be permanent."  
  
"Doctor," Grace breathed, "What do you consider strenuous?"  
  
"Anything more than walking," Sun replied in a tone that suggested walking was on thin ice. Grace sighed.  
  
"Feel like you can sit up?" Sun's face appeared over her. She nodded and ignored his extended hand to sit by herself.

She looked down at her ruined shirt, cut up the sleeve to the neck so the doctor could get to her shoulder. At least he hadn't had to take her bra strap too. Doctor Sun hadn't been amused when she'd worked the strap down her arm and tucked it in the band, but Grace wasn't about to let the valuable item get ruined. It wasn't like she'd come across other bras in the Commonwealth. She'd have to get a shirt tomorrow, but she could deal with that. She stood, tucked the flapping sleeve into the shirt, and began to pull on her jacket.  
  
"What did I just say?" Sun snapped. "Nothing. Strenuous."  
  
"Putting on a jacket is strenuous?" Grace asked, disbelief clear in her voice.  
  
"Just- don't move your shoulder, alright?" he said, as if she were obviously planning on turning cartwheels as soon as they were done.  
  
Grace pulled the jacket to drape over her shoulders, clumsy with only one arm. Sun nodded, apparently satisfied. Grace pulled her bag up from the floor one-handed, and dug for her caps.  
  
"What do I owe you doc?" she asked.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he said, and moved to tidy his equipment.  
  
"What? I dragged you out of bed," Grace started to argue, but the doctor turned to look at her.  
  
"I owe Valentine a favor," he said. "Now don't go undoing all my hard work."  
  
Grace was shooed out like a disobedient child, with orders to change the dressing in the morning.  
  
Nick was leaning against the wall right outside of the clinic. Grace looked at him.  
  
"How does anyone make money in this town?" she asked, fully aware that Sun could hear her beyond the privacy screen he'd put up to tend to her injury.  
  
Nick just shrugged and looked at her bag. "Want me to lug that for you? I hear you're not supposed to use your shoulder."  
  
Grace sighed and held the bag out. Nick took it, careful to not touch her again.  
  
"What do you have in here, half the Commonwealth?" he asked as he shouldered the bag.  
  
"That and about fifteen guns," Grace said. "Oh, and my weighted juggling pins." There was a loud clatter from behind the screen.  
  
Nick ducked his head, the brim of his hat covered his eyes as he dealt with a very suspicious coughing fit.

Grace tried to gather herself. She must really be out of it if she was making jokes.   
  
"Come on, kid," he said, a smile still lurking on his face, "you need to sleep." He began walking away from the clinic.  
  
"I need information," Grace said, following him.  
  
"And you'll get it, or what there is of it at least. But Piper is the one who's been investigating the Institute," he said. "And since she'll definitely be at the agency tomorrow anyway, you may as well rest up."  
  
Grace stopped walking. "Dugout Inn is that way," she said, pointing.  
  
"Agency is this way," Nick said, turning to look at her.  
  
"I'm not an invalid, Nick," Grace said.  
  
"Never said you were, kid. But if you're on the Institute's naughty list, you may as well be in good company," Nick said.  
  
"You realize I'm older than you?" Grace said, when she realized she had no argument against camping at the agency. "I should be the one calling you kid."  
  
Again, Nick looked like she'd said something entertaining. Grace almost asked what the look was about, but Justine's voice cut through high and clear, _keep him at arm's length, Grace. Opening up is inviting trouble._  
  
Grace didn't usually buck Justine's advice on either side of the bombs, but this felt wrong. Here was a detective who could help her find information. He'd been one of the only genuinely helpful people she'd met thus far. At the same time, she couldn't afford to let how she felt make her decicions for her. _Feelings aren't facts_ , Justine reminded her. Grace realized that she should probably say something.  
  
It couldn't hurt to be at the agency.  
   
"Who am I putting out of their bed?" Grace asked with a sigh.  
  
"Well if I had to guess, me," Nick said with a shrug, "but it's not like it gets much use anyway. You could use Ellie's, if you want. I have a feeling she's, uh, otherwise engaged this evening."  
  
Which is why Piper would be at the agency in the morning, Grace thought. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a strange hum distracted her. Was that a Vertibird? She looked up and then looked at Nick.  
  
"Where does the Brotherhood of Steel fit into all of this?" she asked. How could she have forgotten that airship?  
  
Nick's face darkened, "Yeah, you'd better come back to the agency," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read/kudos'd/commented! Y'all are superstars!
> 
> Extra thanks to those of you who have talked to me at unlikely-val.tumblr.com you're doing the lord's work <3


	4. Where is My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brain train leaves the station and goes to Goodneighbor. Grace makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own, my precious. This is.. less edited than others so it's kinda (really) rough. Sorry. 
> 
> The Maxence Cyrin cover of Where is My Mind (originally by The Pixies) can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnIE171XkIY as well as on Spotify!

Grace woke to a low argument. She blinked against the pain in her shoulder and let herself enjoy being horizontal for a few precious seconds. As clarity came, she adjusted her assesment: Nick's side of the argument was low. Piper, on the other hand, was making very little effort to be quiet.

"Come on, Nicky, I'm just trying to get your opinion," Piper was saying.

"She's my client, Piper. Why don't you learn not to snoop on a woman's private affairs?" Nick said. He sounded like he had when she had made her statement: buttoned-up and businesslike. He sounded like an old-world PI, she realized. Grace smiled despite herself, glad that he was at least unwilling to share her business.

Grace sat up and swung her feet to the floor. Dogmeat was snoring gently by her bag, half under the bed. She considered the pile of armor on the floor next to the bed, crowned by the Pip-Boy. She quietly slipped her boots back on, but elected to leave all the armor off. Her shoulder probably wouldn't like putting it on if the pain she had taking it off last night was any indication. She pulled the jacket over her shoulders like a cape. She could easily just wear the t-shirt by itself with one sleeve, but without extra layers she felt too exposed. At least this way she felt covered, if a bit ridiculous.

As dressed as she could get, Grace stood and came around the corner to see Piper glaring at Nick. Nick looked unconcerned. Suddenly, Piper's dark eyes flashed to Grace.

"Well, speak of the devil," she said.

"You're up," Nick said, looking over to her. "How are you feeling?"

Grace considered the question. "Better, I think," she said.

Nick nodded, "Piper here has been asking about everything but I figured I'd let you tell it," he said and gestured to the chair she'd taken for her statement.

Grace took the seat and looked at Piper, "Well, I hear you're the resident Institute specialist," she started, considering how much she needed to tell. "A man that worked for them took my son."

Piper's bravado evaporated. "Institute. Hoo boy," she breathed and sat down in Ellie's chair across from Grace. Piper looked over at Nick who had leaned against his desk to face the two women. "You'd think having a synth with us would make it less difficult to find them," she said.

Nick gave her a wry smile, "Haven't heard from them since I woke up on that junk heap," he said. "Not even a card."

"Junk heap?" Grace blurted out, unable to process the mental image. Was he being literal?

Nick nodded, "I'm a discarded prototype. Just more of their trash. Never met any others like me, though."

Literal, then.

Grace looked at him. He was unlike any of the synths she'd come across at the fort. He was smart, and a damn better shot. From a practical standpoint, it didn't make sense to her that they'd just throw someone like Nick away, prototype or not. She wasn't sure how to voice that thought, so she said, "Their loss."

"Oh, Blue," Piper said, "I like you."

Nick patted his coat, suddenly concerned with finding cigarettes.

Grace didn't know why, but she felt like she had said too much.

Piper leaned forward, a serious look suddenly on her face, "I've been investigating the Institute for over a year now. They really are the Commonwealth's boogeyman. But there's something nobody can figure out."

"Where the Institute actually is," said Nick as he brought a cigarette to his lips, "or how to get in." He lit it.

Piper nodded, "But the guy that took your kid- he must know, right? I mean, he had to take him somewhere." She looked at Grace.

"Kellogg. Huh," Nick looked at Grace as well. "Am I right in thinking that he's not going to drop in for a cup of joe and a chat?"

"You're not wrong," Grace said. Would she have been able to take Kellogg alive? Probably not.

"From the looks of it, I'm guessing he wasn't the surrender and talk type," Nick said, eyeing her bandaged shoulder over his cigarette. Grace pulled her jacket around her closer and nodded.

"Kidnapper and murderer gets his brains blown out by avenging parent," Piper mused to herself, "It'd make a great story if we didn't still have the Commonwealth's biggest mystery in the way."

They sat in silence for a little while, each of them thinking. Then Nick muttered, "Brains blown out."

"Too graphic for the paper?" asked Piper.

"Brains," Nick said again, ignoring Piper's joke. "Huh. You know, we may not need Kellogg at all."

Confused, Grace looked from Nick to Piper. Piper shrugged at Grace and said, "You're starting to sound a little crazy there, Nick. You put off your debug again?"

"There's a place in Goodneighbor called the Memory Den," Nick said, leaning further back against his desk and crossing his arms. "They deal in reliving memories. The woman behind the operation is Doctor Amari. If anyone can get a dead brain to sing, it'll be her."

Grace considered the idea. It was one of the more far-fetched ideas she'd heard in a while, but at least it was an idea. She looked at Nick, "It's a long shot, but I don't see many other options."

Nick nodded, "I guess we're gonna need a piece of Kellogg's brain. Enough for Amari to find out if this'll even work."

"Jesus, Nick," Piper said, face pinched in a look of disgust. Grace looked at her, confused. Why was saying it outright more disgusting than alluding to needing a piece of brain?

"I know it's grisly, but Grace said it herself. We got no other leads, nothing else to go on. And if we can get this to work, that brain could have all the secrets we want to know," he looked at Piper, who nodded but still looked queasy.

A piece of Kellogg's brain, Grace thought. She leaned back and put her chin in her right hand, thinking through the previous day's hunt for the mercenary. It seemed to be ages ago. She remembered shooting him in the chest and then-

"Actually," Grace said as her head snapped up to look at Nick, "I think I might already have something. Hang on." She stood and went to the living area of the agency. She had to scoot a sleeping Dogmeat aside to get to her bag from under the bed. Dogmeat huffed at her and flopped down in another corner. Using her left arm as little as possible, she pulled the bag up onto the bed and dug through it. She finally found the augmentations she'd pulled out of Kellogg.

"Blue, don't tell me you put his brain in a jar," Piper called from the other room.

"I'm not that good," Grace answered automatically as she walked back into the agency office. She held up the augmentation for Nick to see. "Kellogg had this thing attached to his head."

"Stripped him for parts, huh?" Nick said as he stubbed out his cigarette and took the modification from her.

Grace considered making a joke about having liked her jacket, but Justine cautioned her. This was business, after all. She settled for giving a one-shouldered shrug and sat back down.

"Cybernetics," Nick said as he turned the object over in his hands, "We may have just won the lottery."

"Whether we're riding this crazy brain train or not, we can't all go running across the Commonwealth," Piper pointed out.

"I have to go to the Memory Den either way, if I'm gonna introduce you to Doctor Amari," Nick said.

Grace looked at Piper, "I, uh, I need to leave Dogmeat here," she said, and then realized that more context would be helpful. "Taking me to Kellogg really took it out of him," Grace trailed off. How did people ask for things?

Grace almost gave it up as a bad job, but Piper smiled and said, "We'd love to look after him. Nat's always wanted a dog."

Relieved, Grace looked at Nick. "I need to make a stop in the market, but after that I'm ready when you are," she said. Nick nodded. She stood and straightened her jacket to cover the twinge her left shoulder gave.

Apparently, that didn't fool Nick.

"Let me help with your bag," he said, and followed her to the bed. She piled her armor into the bag and clumsily put the Pip-Boy on her right arm. It didn't fit quite right, but she figured it would do for the time being. Nick easily shouldered the bag and led them back to the office. Piper looked amused.

"You never carry my bag, Nicky," she said, mirth clear on her face.

Grace snorted. "All you have to do is get shot," she said, before she could stop herself.

Piper laughed and said, "You know what, I think I'll pass. You two have fun out there, I'm gonna do some more research. If you need me, you know where to find me."

 

* * *

 

Grace ran her right hand over the short stubble on her scalp. The barber had gotten it fairly even, all things considered. The dark ponytail that hung down from the crown of her head was still dense, though, and it tickled her scalp when it moved. She hoped that sensation would pass soon. It was at least much easier to deal with now her left shoulder was out of commission for the time being.

The shirt she'd gotten from Fallon's wasn't a perfect fit, but it had two long sleeves, and it wasn't covered in blood. Grace had to leave the ruined leather jacket in the trash, but she had other jackets at Sanctuary. If all she had to deal with was a slightly too-short shirt for the next few days, she would live.

Nick walked along beside her, occasionally giving her information about the areas they went through. More than once he'd called something by a name that she remembered, but was out of place in the present. Had the Institute given him knowledge of the past city? He talked about Boston like he'd lived there.

Grace filed this question away for later, unsure of what to make of the facts she had at the moment.

"Hold it," Nick said, his pistol suddenly in his exposed hand. Grace scanned the top of the buildings. Normally she'd have preferred traveling across rooftops, but that required both arms and with her shoulder damaged, it wasn't feasible. Feeling annoyed by the low road, she started looking for meat bags or fortifications. She saw what looked like a head on a pike a few blocks down. Raiders, then.

She moved behind a burnt out truck and crouched down. Nick tucked himself into a stoop across the street from her. She pulled Kellogg's pistol from the holster on her thigh and double checked that it was loaded.

Slowly, they crept down the street, hiding in shadows as much as they could. Grace knew her aim wasn't as good with one hand, and she didn't want to put Nick in the position of being the only one with a decent shot. Stealth was their unspoken agreement.

Unfortunately, while stealth worked on Raiders, it was less effective on dogs.

"Shit," Grace breathed as she raised her pistol. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nick do the same. A pack of snarling attack dogs were upon them before she could stand.

And then her body went on autopilot. Hands went to pistol, steadying her shot, shoulder ignored. Feet kicked the dogs away, and shots put them down. Raiders yelled from somewhere and her pistol pointed in the direction of the sound. She fired and watched one drop. Another yelled some threat or other at her, and was shot for his trouble.

She looked around for more and saw Nick, surrounded by the rest of the attack dogs. She shot one, and pushed Nick away, getting him outside of the line of her fire. He yelled something but she didn't hear it. She put the dogs down as fast as she could. _No bad dogs, only bad trainers_ floated through her head. Who had said that to her? Her sister? Grace didn't disagree even now, but she couldn't risk letting the poor things live.

She lowered her gun. The street was quiet again.

Her shoulder registered pain. A lot of pain. She holstered her pistol and turned to look for Nick.

He was behind her, his own pistol lowered but not holstered. He looked furious.

"Are you nuts?" he asked, "Do you want to be able to use that arm again?"

Something inside Grace snapped.

"What was I supposed to do, just watch them tear you apart? Cheer you on?" she spat. She knew she was looking at Nick, but her eyes saw Connie Abernathy, scattered along the edge of her farm. In place of dogs' jaws was a Yao Guai's maw, bloodied and roaring. Grace hadn't been fast enough then. She had told herself she would be faster next time, and she had been. What was her arm if it meant a life saved?

Nick looked at her, and then holstered his pistol.

"You alright?" he asked stiffly.

"Fine," Grace answered. She took a breath, willing herself back into control. Her failings weren't Nick's fault. She'd need to apologize to him later. Once they made it to Goodneighbor.

 

* * *

 

She looked down at the body.

She looked over to the Ghoul cleaning off his knife. Was he using a handkerchief? _Was he wearing a frock coat?_

She looked at Nick, who didn't seem pleased but hadn't moved to stop the Ghoul from killing the man. He also didn't look surprised.

Grace tried to take stock of what had just happened. She didn't get very far when her thoughts were interrupted.

"Nicky!" the Ghoul said amiably as he sauntered up to them. "Good to see you." He looked at Grace a little too long and then said to Nick, "Are you gonna introduce us, or are you going to let me do it?" Grace didn't like the tone of his voice.

Nick cleared this throat, which struck Grace as an odd thing to do, and said, "Hancock, this is Grace. Grace, this is John Hancock, the mayor of Goodneighbor."

"You're kidding," Grace said flatly. "John Hancock?"

Hancock didn't seem to mind her disbelief. He spread his arms as if to show off his definitely colonial getup. "In the flesh. Well-" he looked at Nick and gave a wink, "what's left of it at least."

Grace didn't know what to say to that. She fell back to being cordial in place of saying anything of substance and said, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mayor."

Hancock laughed, "I didn't know they made funny detectives anymore. Nick, why didn't you tell me?"

"She's a client, and we have an appointment," Nick said, and Grace noted the return of his brusque detective voice. She didn't know what to make of that either, but she wasn't caught off gaurd by it. Hancock had, after all, just killed a man in cold blood.  
  
Hancock made a face that suggested the raising of an eyebrow, if an eyebrow had been there to raise.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Grace said, "Thank you for the, uh, personal greeting. We do have places to be, Mr. Hancock." She started forward, giving Hancock a wide clearance as she passed. Nick was behind her with a quickness that didn't soothe her.

"Am I going the right direction?" Grace asked under her breath, loathe to turn around. The mayor had set off all her alarms, she realized. She didn't want to clue anyone in this place to the fact that she didn't know where she was going.

"I'm going to put my hand on your back. Is that alright?" Nick's reply came just as quietly. Grace considered for a second and then nodded a fraction. She was prepared, she wouldn't be startled.

Nick's intact hand barely rested on the small of Grace's back, steering her around a corner. She jumped a little at the contact anyway.

"Sorry," she said quietly as Nick walked next to her, "Just, uh, not used to it."

Nick just nodded, and then tilted his head toward a courtyard. "It's not far."

Grace just kept walking, trying to take in Goodneighbor without being obvious about it. Men were posted on every corner, holding guns. Some of them ignored her, some called out greetings to Nick. One whistled at her.

Grace's right hand automatically balled into a fist, but Justine's voice suddenly came from the depths of her mind, a memory from over two hundred years ago and not terribly far from where she was now; _only dogs respond to whistles_. The combination of the memory of Justine's voice and the warmth of Nick's steady hand on her back made her feel unexpectedly better. She raised her head, a cold look firmly on her face.

And then she saw the neon lights of the Memory Den. Nick's hand withdrew.

He pulled the door open and said, "After you."

 

* * *

 

The inside of the memory den was oppressively shabby. The smell of stale smoke and old upholstery settled around Grace like a haze. An absurd correlation between stale smells and memories popped into her mind. She dismissed the thought to focus on the woman reclined like a queen on the chaise lounge in the middle of the large room.

"Nick Valentine!" she called out in a husky voice. "I thought you had forgotten all about little ol' me," she said, a simper on the edge of her voice. Grace's eyebrows rose involuntarily.

"I may have walked out on the Memory Den, Irma, but I'd never walk out on you," Nick replied with a tip of his hat. Grace's eyebrows rose further. That was a line straight from an old-world PI if she'd ever heard one before.

The woman, Irma, caught Grace's eye. She looked Grace up and down once, and tilted her head. Grace nodded at her with a quiet "Ma'am," and followed the detective into a back staircase.

More questions, she thought to herself.

Nick was down the stairs and calling out to Doctor Amari as Grace came around the corner.

"I take it this isn't a social call?" Amari responded. She set down a notebook and turned to look at them.

Grace looked from the doctor to Nick. "Uh, you better take this one," she said to him.

Nick gave the doctor a brief run down of his idea. Grace watched her face go from serious to confused to a mixture of the two.

Doctor Amari looked at the two of them after Nick finished his explanation. "You want to do _what_?" she asked. Grace pushed back a smile. Amari reminded her of Justine.

Nick handed her the cybernetic augmentation Grace had pulled from Kellogg's head. She looked it over.

"This is Institute technology," she said at last.

"Not surprised. He worked for the Institute," Nick said. "And he knew how to get in and out."

Something passed between Nick and Amari. A silent understanding. Grace wondered what a brain doctor wanted with the Institute, but couldn't think of a good way to ask.

And then they were talking about plugging the thing into Nick's head.

"Wait," Grace said, "what about Nick? This won't," she struggled to find a way to put her thoughts to words. She settled for the simplest way, "This won't hurt him, will it?" She was no brain surgeon, but she knew what could happen if one plugged a strange device into a computer.

She looked at Amari. The doctor's mouth was set in a firm line. "There's no way to tell, I'm afraid," she said. "This isn't something that's been done, as far as I know."

Grace looked at Nick. "No," she said. "You've already done more than you needed to help me. I can find another way."

"What, you've had another way up your sleeve this whole time?" he asked, sitting in the chair in front of Doctor Amari. "Don't worry about me, doll, I'm out of warranty anyway."

Grace rolled her eyes and looked at Amari. The doctor seemed to be waiting for her. Grace threw her hands up, a universal signal of do-what-you-want. Her shoulder immediately complained.

"Watch it," Nick said, eyeing her arm.

Grace held her tongue, but she thought it was mighty rich of the guy having things shoved in his head to tell her to take care of her shoulder. She settled for giving him a deeply unimpressed look.

Nick chuckled, apparently having gotten the gist of her thoughts. "All right," he said. "Let's get this show on the road. Just- if I start cackling like a grizzled old merc, pull me out, will ya?"

Amari was doing something that Grace couldn't see, but she said, "I need you to keep talking, Mister Valentine."

"Anything you had in mind?" he ground out. Whatever she was doing didn't sound like it was painless. "I- I'm getting a lot of static- it's-" he cut himself off to clench his jaw. Grace took a step towards him and crouched down, face pointed up at him. His eyes were squeezed shut.

Grace grit her teeth and made a decision. If Nick was willing to literally put himself on the line to help her, she could at least put her own discomfort aside for solidarity. Tentatively, she put her right hand on his intact left hand. His hand closed around her fingers, tightly, an automatic response.

This hurt more than he was letting on. She looked up at Amari, alarm bells ringing in her head, but Amari was shaking her head. Nick was in control of this, not her.

All at once, Nick relaxed. He opened his eyes and gave a sad smile. "Sorry, couldn't get anything out of there," he said.

Grace nodded. "You alright?" she asked.

"Good as ever," he said, and Grace gently tugged her hand away from his. Nick seemed to register it was there only after the fact. He gave her a puzzled look, but she just gave a one-shouldered shrug. She'd explain it if she had to, but now wasn't the time.

Grace stood and looked at Doctor Amari. The doctor was talking to herself, working through the problem out loud.

"It's the encryption," she was saying, "but- but if both of you.." she trailed off and looked at Grace. "If I can connect both of you through the memory loungers, it might be enough."

"How would that work, exactly?" Grace asked. Her engineering background didn't come close to adequate in this scenario.

"Mister Valentine's mind would act like a host," Amari explained, "and you'd be the client. With the processing power of both of your minds, the encryption should break fairly easily."

"Guess two heads really are better than one, huh?" Nick quipped from the chair. He didn't sound like he'd fully recovered.

She ignored Nick and addressed the doctor, "And this won't be like," she gestured to Nick.

"I can't say for certain, but it should be much simpler with two minds," Amari said. Grace nodded. She was relieved to have something to do, if she was honest.

Nick stood and made his way to one of the loungers, "See you on the other side," he said.

Grace looked at him and then released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Ridiculous man, she thought. He was growing on her.

 

* * *

 

Kellogg's memories were as dark as she had expected. She couldn't find it in herself to pity him. He'd made his own choices.

When he put a bullet in Nate, she hadn't even flinched. She'd seen it so many times in her dreams, she couldn't pretend to be surprised anymore. She watched herself struggle inside the cryochamber, fists beating on the glass. Had she really looked that scared?

"At least we still have the backup," Kellogg said.

Should have killed me when you had the chance, asshole, Grace thought.

And then there was Shaun.

He was a skinny kid with a medium complexion and dark hair. Nate's Korean features showed much more strongly in him than Grace's own European mutt genes. Grace looked at him. She knew she should be feeling something. Some maternal instinct that should drive her to ache, or weep, or-

She didn't feel anything. She wanted to get him away from the Institute, of course. She couldn't imagine that it was a good place for a kid to grow up, but the Commonwealth wasn't much better.

Kellogg was tasked with finding a man called Virgil in the Glowing Sea. He said goodbye to Shaun. Hell, even the man she'd killed had been more parental than she was.

Grace watched Shaun disappear in a flash of light with a man in all black.

Doctor Amari's voice called through to her, and a white haze took over her eyes. She was sitting in the lounger, Amari hovered at the foot of the chair.

"I'm- I'm truly sorry you had to go through that again," she said. Grace waved it off.

"Was that teleportation?" she asked.

Amari nodded and backed up to give Grace space to climb out of the chair. Grace did, and looked around.

"Where's Nick?" she asked.

"He's upstairs. I disconnected him from the implant while you were waking up," Amari said. "He should be fine."

Grace nodded and said, "I guess that means I'm going to the Glowing Sea. Any advice?"

Amari regarded her with a look of clinical interest. "I'd get a radiation suit or a suit of power armor. And all the Radaway and Rad-X you can carry. Even then, it will be very dangerous."

"Thank you, doctor," Grace said. Amari nodded.

Grace found Nick sitting on a bench upstairs. He stood when she walked up to him.

"Do you want to try to make it back to Diamond City tonight or do you want to sleep?" he asked her. He really was starting to get to know her.

"I'd prefer to go back to Diamond City, but," she looked at Nick. He was looking at her like she was speaking a different language. She sighed. "Fine. Is there anywhere here that we can stay where we won't get robbed, killed, or both?"

Nick made a face that said 'right answer' and said, "The Rexford. It's not nice, but what is?"

 

* * *

 

The Rexford only had one room. Grace handed over the caps to the woman at the desk. Nick followed her up the stairs to the room and put her bag on a chair. Grace took the Pip-Boy off her right arm with a minimal fight with the latch. She dropped it on top of the bag.

"Uh," Nick started, looking awkward. "I can wait downstairs," he offered lamely. Grace snorted.

"Look," she started and then stopped. They needed to have this conversation, she figured. Set boundaries, get on the same page. Instead of continuing her thought, she gestured to the other chair across from the bed. She sat on the bed, legs crossed and back pressed against the wall. Nick took the offered chair like it was a trap.

"Tomorrow I'm going back to Diamond City. I'm going to pick up Dogmeat, assuming he hasn't moved in permanantly with Piper and Nat, and I'm going to go back to Sanctuary," she said. She dug a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket with her right hand and lit one. Having something to hold in her hand helped. "I have some power armor there that will help me get through the Glowing Sea with my skin intact, but it needs to be worked on, and it might take a while," she looked at Nick. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

Nick looked at her and then lit a cigarette of his own. "I'd like to go with you. See this through to the end," he said.

Grace nodded. She found that she didn't mind the company, and that was a big compliment in her mind.

"I don't, uh- I don't spend a lot of time with people," she said. "I'm not always great at it."

Nick smirked and nodded but didn't say anything.

"And I'm not the best at talking with, well, anyone really," she gave Nick a hard look. "Are you sure you want to travel with me?"

The smirk on his face turned into an open smile and Nick said, "Yeah, I think so."

Grace's eyebrows knitted together and took a drag from her cigarette, "Well, I've warned you, I guess."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Nick said, "So with all of this," he gestured broadly, "how are you holding up?"

Grace looked away and said, "I'm fine, Nick."

"Now look, I'm fine with you being bad at talking and all that but if this is going to work, we have to be honest," he said. Grace looked at him and couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came up her chest. The point was a valid one. Any partnership that one wanted to succeed should be based on honest communication. Even if he made it sound like traveling together was some grand life-changing decision.

"Fair enough," she said, still laughing. Then she sobered and lit another cigarette, the last one sat dead and cold on her thigh. "I don't really know. I'm not good at putting words to feelings. I guess I'm annoyed, mostly. Waking up to the apocalypse isn't great," she said. "I guess none of that matters though, does it? I'm here now. May as well crack on."

Nick nodded, "That's a good attitude to have. Not exactly the way I felt."

Grace raised an eyebrow. Nick continued, "Well I told you about the junk pile. I woke up with a head full of memories that weren't mine and didn't even know it. Getting my footing here was a learning experience." Grace nodded her understanding.

"Is that why you went to the Memory Den?" she asked. Nick looked at his cigarette, and Grace wondered if that had been too personal a question.

"Living in another person's memories," he said, "isn't the same as reliving your own. I found out the hard way, I suppose."

"Whose memories?" Grace asked, as she took another drag from her cigarette. She knew she was pushing it, but her curiosity was too great.

Nick looked at her from below the brim of his hat. He looked like he was deciding something.

"An old cop named Nick Valentine. Pre-war guy, I think you'd have liked him," Nick considered for a second and then corrected himself, "Actually, I take that back. You wouldn't have liked him. He was very forward."

"And you're.. based on him?" Grace asked.

Nick nodded, "Something like that. They scanned his brain before the bombs dropped, and eventually dropped it all in my noggin."

"So when you woke up on that junk pile," Grace started, a dawning horror bled into her mind.

"I thought I was him," Nick said quietly. "Turns out I, uh, wasn't."

Pieces of the puzzle dropped into place in Grace's mind. The pre-war cop must have lived in Boston. The old-world PI voice Nick used, and that line he pulled on Irma must be leftovers from him as well. Grace considered the new information and had to agree, if the old Nick Valentine had said things like that often, she probably wouldn't have liked him. She'd never liked being fed meaningless lines like that.

"So," Nick continued, voice lighter, "I guess what I'm trying to say is this: I don't understand everything you've gone through, but I can figure a lot better than most. So if you want to talk about it, I'm game."

Grace nodded. She didn't want to talk about it, to poke at that wound. She'd be better once it all scarred over.

She appreciated the thought, though. "Thanks," she said, not keen to say more than that.

And then she yawned. Grace tried to cover it with her hand, but Nick was already standing.

"You need to get some sleep, I'll wait downstairs," he said.

Grace nodded toward her bag, the need for sleep sudden and intense. "I have some books in there," she said, "I can't promise they're good but they'll pass the time."

Nick rummaged in the bag and pulled out an old library book. Grace couldn't see what it was, but he looked pleased with the find. He walked to the door as she began the struggle to take off her boots.

"Night," he said.

"Night, Nick," she replied.

She was asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I may be a little while in getting the next one up as I'm moving house but rest assured that I am writing and this will continue. I'm having way too much fun with this story to not keep going.
> 
> Also, yeah I skipped the whole "Kellogg's voice out of Nick post memory dive" because honestly others have explored that in other fics way better than I could and that's not something I would have developed so.. I'm just pretending it didn't happen.


	5. Sound & Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Nick go to Sanctuary and learn a little bit about each other- not from each other, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Sorry this chapter took so incredibly long, the move absolutely ruined my writing schedule. Anyway, we're now mostly settled and I can get back to it. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Sound & Color by Alabama Shakes can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nc5ZrkHbTgc and also on Spotify!

She was surrounded by a bright and oppressive light that weighed on her like rubble. Grace couldn't move. From somewhere beyond the light, she heard noises like gunfire, or maybe laughter. She tried to look around but her eyes hurt every time she tried to open them.  
  
She was in the memory lounger, laying on her back but also standing in front of Kellogg. His bloodied face twisted into a grimace and a wheeze came from one of the wounds in his torso. A horrible sucking sound crashed against the blinding brightness and overwhelmed her. Kellogg had a needle, impossibly long and shiny, attached to some kind of plunger. He drove it into her shoulder and she knew that the needle was full of ice.  
  
Grace tried to move, but all she could do was feel the crystals of ice blooming in her shoulder, spreading outwards, killing all it touched.  
  
Grace sat up suddenly, the dark room of the Hotel Rexford a cool relief. Just a nightmare. Her right hand was pressed against her left shoulder. Grace wondered if that was an automatic response to the nightmare or the pain that she was all too aware of shooting through her shoulder and down her arm. She tried to swallow the wave of nausea the pain brought, and realized her mouth was completely dry.  
  
The doctor had told her to drink water. She hadn't really followed those directions.  
  
Grace stood and fumbled around to find the lamp she thought she remembered seeing the night before. She found it and clicked it on, and looked around for the bag. It was still on the chair where Nick had left it. She dug into it and pulled out a can of drinking water. As she opened it, a jolt in her stomach reminded her that Doctor Sun had also told her to change the dressing on her shoulder, which she had not done. Would it be infected?  
  
She abandoned the can of water to unbutton the too-small flannel shirt and peel the bandages back from her shoulder. It was hard to tell in the weak light of the lamp, but it didn't look inflamed. The wound was closed and puckered, and would likely leave a scar, but at least it was closed. The pain must be from the nerve, then. Great.  
  
Grace remembered the skirmish with the attack dogs and reminded herself to apologize to Nick for her outburst. Traveling to Sanctuary would be longer and probably more dangerous than the trip from Diamond City to Goodneighbor. They'd have to work out a better plan if they were going to get there with her shoulder intact.  
  
Grace dug in the bag again and pulled out new bandages and another can of water. She drank the first can as she slowly attempted to redress her shoulder. It wasn't as evenly compressed as the bandage Doctor Sun had applied, but it was better than nothing. Grace pulled the flannel shirt back on, finished the second can, and looked back at the bed.  
  
Her eyes felt gritty and dry, and she knew she probably needed more rest, but she also knew it wouldn't happen. There was no point in laying in bed and getting frustrated when she could be doing something else. Grace stepped into her boots and convinced the Pip-Boy to latch closed on her right forearm.    
  
Bag repacked and dressed, Grace looked around the room once to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind. Satisfied that she had everything, she pulled the door open and almost walked straight into a Ghoul.  
  
He was wearing a tattered overcoat and hat. He stared at her, open-mouthed. Had he been going to the room across the hall? Before she could say anything, he began shouting.  
  
"What- You? You're from Sanctuary Hills," he stared at her, a look of outrage on his ruined face.  
  
Who called called it _Sanctuary Hills_ anymore?  
  
Grace looked at the Ghoul, mind spinning to place how she would have met him. An answer clicked.  
  
"Vault-Tec?" she asked, trying to recall the man's face. Did he have blue eyes before?  
  
"Twenty years of loyal service," the Ghoul spat, "and now look at me. Not on the list. But you! Two hundred years and you're still perfect! How?!"  
  
Grace wondered if anything in the bag would break if she had to drop it to defend herself. Justine clicked a disappointed tongue in her mind. No, her words were better than one fully-functioning arm. She'd be better off if she could talk her way out of this.  
  
"They froze us," she said, and watched the information sink in. If his expression was anything to go on, he hadn't known.  
  
"Well, I had to get to the future the hard way," he said bitterly, "through the filth and decay. Turned me into a Ghoul, a freak!"  
  
The shock seemed to be wearing off quickly; he was working himself up into anger again.  
  
"Are there any other Ghouls from our time?" Grace asked. Change the topic, give him something else to focus on.  
  
"What, crazy Kent and nothing-bothers-me-Daisy? Yeah, there are a few of us, but," his voice softened, went to a sadder tone, "no one from the neighborhood. No one from Vault-Tec." He looked away from her face and said "They just left me there."  
  
"I'm so sorry," Grace said, and meant it. He'd suffered because of Vault-Tec too, just like she had. She didn't imagine the process of becoming a Ghoul was any more pleasant than what she'd endured.  
  
"Look, uh, you're the only person I know from before," he said, glancing back up at her face. "I've been so alone here. No settlements want a Ghoul with two hundred years of Vault-Tec sales experience. Diamond City bigots won't let a Ghoul inside. It's just here or back at Sanctuary talking to that crazy robot of yours."  
  
"Don't bad-talk Codsworth," she said. "He's been through two hundred years of loneliness too. He's just," Grace paused and searched for words. "He's just processing it differently." It wasn't a good way of explaining why Codsworth had tried to keep up the irradiated garden, but the Ghoul nodded. He'd given her an idea, though.  
  
"Why don't you go back to Sanctuary?" Grace asked. "If you don't like it here, I mean."  
  
He looked at her.  
  
"It's turning into a proper settlement," she continued, "but we don't have a problem with Ghouls or anyone else as long as you're willing to help."  
  
"You'll- you'll visit, right?" he asked. Grace gave him as reassuring a smile as she could.  
  
"Of course I will," she said.  
  
The Ghoul's face split into a sunny grin, and Grace relaxed a bit.  
  
"All right," he said, "I'll head out that way." He turned and then looked again at her, "By the way, I'm Gordon. Gordon Monroe. Don't know if I ever told you."  
  
"I'm just Grace now," Grace replied. Gordon nodded and said goodbye again. He went into the room opposite of Grace's and shut the door behind him.  
  
Grace took a deep breath and turned towards the stairs. She was surprised to see Nick leaning against the corner down the hall.  
  
"Morning," Grace said as she approached him. How long had he been there?  
  
"I heard yelling," he explained. "That was nice of you," Nick said and nodded towards Gordon's room.  
  
"Not really," Grace said. "Sanctuary's been needing a permanent trading post. Someone with two hundred years' worth of sales experience is an ideal candidate."  
  
"You always this big picture?" Nick asked and gestured to the bag. Grace shook her head as she handed it over to him.  
  
"Not before," she said, "but I guess that's the way I have to think now."  
  
They turned and started around and down the stairs.  
  
"I uh, I need to apologize for yesterday," Grace stuttered out. She'd never been good at this kind of thing.  
  
"What for?" Nick asked.  
  
"Yesterday, on the way here- I snapped at you. It wasn't right of me to do that. I just," Grace sighed. She didn't want to explain her past failures. "I don't want anyone to get hurt if I can help it." That was enough, wasn't it?  
  
"Water under the bridge," Nick said. "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."  
  
That was a fair deal. Grace nodded.

 

* * *

  
  
The walk back to Diamond City seemed faster to Grace than the trip to Goodneighbor. She knew it was the same amount of distance, but the combination of knowing where she was going and the lack of raiders made it much more pleasant.  
  
Grace took in the now familiar sight of people milling around the field, and saw Nat already on her box. Dogmeat was circling around her, tail wagging.  
  
"Looks like he's gotten his energy back," Nick said as they went down the stairs to the field. Dogmeat bounded from Nat's box to Grace and back again. Grace hummed an agreement.  
  
"Hey Nick!" Nat called as they came closer. "Hello, Grace," she said with less enthusiasm. Grace suppressed a smile. She was still an outsider, and it was smart of the girl to be wary.  
  
"What's with the tone?" Nick asked. Apparently he didn't approve of the outsider treatment.  
  
"It's fine," Grace said. It wasn't like the kid was being rude, and even if she was, why did it matter?  
  
"Piper said I have to be nice to you, now that you're friends with her and Ellie and Nick," Nat mumbled and looked down at Dogmeat. He barked happily.  
  
Grace privately disagreed. Nat didn't know her, and neither did Piper. She also didn't know how to put that into words without overstepping her bounds.  
  
"Well," Grace said, "we won't be here long."  
  
"Are you on a case?" Nat asked excitedly, looking at Nick. "Where are you going? Is she your new partner?"  
  
"Whoa there, kiddo!" Ellie's laughing voice came from the door of the Publick, "No grilling the detective."  
  
Grace silently blessed the secretary.  
  
"I'm about to head to the office," Ellie said and then looked at Grace, "Can I borrow you for a few minutes?"  
  
Grace gave a one-shouldered shrug, "Sure."  
  
"I'll see if Piper's dug up anything new," Nick said. Grace nodded and followed Ellie through the alleyways to the agency.  
  
"What's up?" Grace asked as Ellie unlocked the door and let them both in.  
  
"I just uh, well, I wanted to thank you again for rescuing Nick," Ellie said. She dug in her desk and pulled out a small bag. Before Grace realized what it was, Ellie pushed it into her hands. It was full of caps.  
  
"No, Ellie-", Grace stammered. There were at least a few hundred caps there.  
  
"Please, just, let me pay you like anyone would pay Nick for finding a missing person. It's important to me," Ellie said.  
  
"I'm not a detective, Ellie," Grace said, "I need one myself."  
  
"Well," Ellie said, "that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about."  
  
Grace waited. Had another case come in for Nick while they were in Goodneighbor? They'd only been gone for a day.  
  
"Nick is going with you?" Ellie asked.  
  
Grace nodded, "Back to Sanctuary."  
  
"So you got a lead?" Ellie asked. She sounded as excited as Nat.  
  
"The Glowing Sea," Grace said and Ellie's face fell. Grace nodded again, "But, I have power armor in Sanctuary. Nick wants to go too."  
  
"To the Glowing Sea?" Ellie asked. Grace nodded.  
  
Ellie looked at her and seemed to come to a conclusion.  
  
"Nick hasn't had a partner, a good partner, in a very long time," Ellie said. "But I think that if you wanted to give it a shot, you'd be perfect."  
  
"What makes you think that?" Grace asked, bewildered. Was this a running joke?  
  
"Well, you ask the right questions, for starters," Ellie said with a smile. "And you not only found Nick but you brought him back in one piece. That's a tall order for anyone, but you pulled it off like it was nothing."  
  
"I needed to find him," Grace said, "I need help to find Shaun." It wasn't like she had many other options besides getting Nick out of that vault.  
  
"Just think about it, will you?" Ellie asked. "It's been so long since Nick's been willing to go out into the field with anyone and, well, I think it would work."  
  
"He just wanted to see this through," Grace said. "I don't-"  
  
"Just think about it," Ellie repeated.  
  
"Shouldn't uh, shouldn't Nick be the one asking me this?" Grace asked, looking for any argument.  
  
"He's too damn stubborn," Ellie said with fondness, "but I have a feeling he'd agree to try."  
  
Grace blinked. A feeling wasn't much to go on. She started to say just that, but Ellie interrupted her.  
  
"Just think on it," Ellie said, a tone of finality in her voice.  
  
Grace recognized someone who wouldn't back down, so she sighed and agreed, "Okay, Ellie. I'll think about it."

* * *

  
The open roads were almost ominously quiet. Nick had suggested sticking to the roads for safety's sake, and Grace had agreed. She knew there were a few settlements along the road between Diamond City and Sanctuary, and she wanted to check in with them.  
  
"Mind if we make a quick stop?" Grace asked. They were getting close to Oberland Station, and the last time she had been through they had asked her to clear out some Super Mutants close by.  
  
"Sure," Nick said. "Everything alright?"  
  
"Yeah, just want to make sure those Super Mutants didn't have friends," she said. Dogmeat bounded ahead of her towards the farm.  
  
"Super Mutants?" Nick asked.  
  
"They were moving in on this settlement," Grace said and nodded towards the small homestead. "They asked if I could clear the mutants out, I just want to make sure everything is going well."  
  
"Grace!" a voice came from the tower above the railroad track.  
  
"Hey," Grace called back. What was that woman's name? Marlene? Darlene? She had never been good with names.  
  
The woman came down the stairs and met them on the track.  
  
"Just passing through," Grace said. "Everything going okay? Do you need anything?" Grace asked.  
  
"Don't suppose you have any more of those melon seeds?" the woman asked. "We lost a few seedlings to mole rats a couple days ago."  
  
"Let me check," Grace said and reached towards Nick. He handed her the bag and she crouched to dig through it in search of seeds.  
  
"You're the detective, right? Valentine?" the settler asked as Grace searched.  
  
"That's right," Nick said, "I'm sorry, have we met?"  
  
"No, my cousin told me about you," she said, "His father, my uncle, went missing. You found him and brought him back. He was up a tree, surrounded by ferals," the settler said. Grace's hands stilled and she looked up at Nick.  
  
"No kidding, Robby's your uncle?" Nick asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm Jolene. Thanks for helping him out, Mr. Valentine," the settler said. Jolene stuck her hand out and Nick shook it. Grace watched with interest. She had figured the exposed metal might be painful or sensitive, but Nick didn't seem disconcerted by the contact.  
  
"It was no problem. I was glad to help him out," Nick said.  
  
"He was glad to get the help," Jolene said with a smile.  
  
Grace looked back down into her bag. She found the seeds, but there weren't many. She grabbed them and a packet of tato seeds as well. Grace stood and handed them to Jolene.  
  
"Here's what I've got, but I can ask Greygarden to send some down with Carla the next time she passes through," Grace said.  
  
"This is plenty, Grace," Jolene said as she tucked the packets away into a pocket. She looked at Grace and then at Nick. "I'm glad there's folks like the two of you out here," she said.  
  
Grace shifted her weight and looked around. "We'll head out then," she said, and wondered if she could just let Nick do all the talking. He seemed much better suited to that than she was.  
  
Dogmeat charged past Grace and further down the road. Nick said goodbye to Jolene and Grace waved. They followed Dogmeat for a few minutes before Nick broke the silence.  
  
"So tell me about these Super Mutants," he said, and Grace looked over to see him looking at her from the corner of his eyes.  
  
"If you tell me about the guy up a tree," Grace said, unable to fully keep the smile from her face.  
  
"Deal," Nick said.

 

* * *

  
By the time they made it to Sanctuary, night had fallen. The lights Sturges had managed to cobble together from wire and glass shone on the sign that read Sanctuary Hills. Dogmeat ran a few yards ahead of Grace and Nick, and heralded their arrival.  
  
Grace heard a few people greet the dog, and saw the tall form of Preston walking down the road towards her. He met them as they crossed the old bridge.  
  
"General, glad to see you made it back," he said, and then added, "And- is that Detective Valentine?"  
  
Grace and Nick looked at each other.  
  
"You know each other?" asked Grace.  
  
"General?" asked Nick.  
  
Ah. Yes, she had forgotten to mention that. Preston huffed a laugh.  
  
"General, we've talked about this," he said, a gentle teasing tone to his voice.    
  
Grace tried to not grimace at the memory. It had been one of the more awkward conversations she'd had since she had climbed out of the vault, and there had been no shortage of awkward conversations.  
  
"Well," she said, pushing down the residual embarrassment, "my business with Nick is as a private citizen, not as a Minuteman, so-"  
  
"You're the General of the Minutemen," Nick said, a statement rather than a question.  
  
"Well, if you believe Preston can just hand out titles," Grace said, a wry look pointed towards the man in question.  
  
Preston laughed, "She's still getting used to it, Detective. I did kind of spring it on her," he said.  
  
Grace hummed and then asked, "So how do you know each other?"  
  
"By reputation only," Preston said, "but it's a good one." He looked at Nick and said, "Preston Garvey. I hope you'll be able to help the General, Detective."  
  
"I hope so too," Nick said, with a look of disbelief in Grace's direction. He then looked back at Preston and said "I, uh, heard about everything you did for those settlers at Quincy. I'm glad to meet you, Preston."  
  
Grace looked around.  
  
"Where's Sturges?" she asked.  
  
"Up the tower, General," Preston said and then turned to her fully. "When you get a minute, I need a word with you."  
  
Grace nodded and then looked at Nick, "Welcome to Sanctuary," she said.  
  
Nick followed Grace and Preston down the street towards the tower. It had originally been makeshift housing for the settlers until better buildings were made, but Grace had liked the idea of a lookout and so between more important projects, the tower had been completed. It wasn't a feat of architecture by any standards, but she was proud of what it stood for.  
  
It had taken a week to clear off the ruined house from the foundation slab, and another few weeks to figure out the best way to construct a solid base. Now the tower was three stories tall and could see the full layout of Sanctuary from the platform on the roof. It was Grace's favorite place in Sanctuary.  
  
Preston looked at Nick, "While the General talks with Sturges, I can give you the tour," he offered.  
  
Nick nodded, "Want this anywhere in particular?" and gestured with the bag over his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, I can take it," Grace said. Nick looked at her.  
  
"I can carry it across the street, Nick," she said and took the bag. "Thank you," she added. She was grateful for the help, even if it made her feel a bit ridiculous.  
  
Preston was looking at her curiously. Grace didn't feel up to explaining the gunshot just yet.  
  
"I'll find you after I talk to Sturges," she said to the two and made her way to the carport-turned-workshop she'd taken to working from. She dropped the bag off on the worktable and made her way to the tower.  
  
She climbed the stairs and as her head came level with the final platform of the roof, she saw Sturges crouched over a toolbox.  
  
"Sturges," Grace said, and he looked back.  
  
"Hey General," he said, "I thought I heard your dog barking out there." He stood and dusted off his hands. Grace looked at the toolbox.  
  
"Still working on those lights?" she asked and stepped onto the roof. A slight wind pushed over her. She resisted the urge to lean into it.    
  
"Got a short somewhere," Sturges said as he ran a hand across the back of his neck and looked at the wires at his feet, "just trackin' it down."  
  
"Got a question for you," Grace said and Sturges looked at her.  
  
"Shoot," he said.  
  
"What would it take to get rad scrubbers into the power armor?" she asked.  
  
Sturges put his hands on his hips and blew out a breath, "Well, uh, we'll need the parts, but the assembly itself won't be too hard to suss out," he said.  
  
Grace nodded, "Tomorrow morning I want you to take stock and make a list of what I'll need."  
  
"You got it General," Sturges said, and then he stilled. "Uh, do I want to ask why the power armor needs rad scrubbers?"  
  
Grace considered his question. Sturges, as far as she could tell, was a good man and an excellent mechanic, but she'd seen his tendency to fuss over people. The last thing she needed was a Sturges-sized mother hen clucking around her.    
  
"You do not," she said.  
  
"Fair enough," he replied cheerfully. That was one of the reasons Grace liked him: he accepted her decisions without question.  
  
"Do you need a hand up here?" Grace asked.  
  
"I was about to call it a day. Lost the light a while ago anyway," Sturges said. He closed the toolbox and looked at Grace.  
  
"Gonna stay up here a bit, General?" he asked.  
  
"Just a few minutes," Grace said. Sturges went down the stairs and then she was alone on the lookout. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the wind. Movement caught her eye and she saw the figures of Preston and Nick walking the circuit around Sanctuary. They looked like they were deep in conversation. She leaned against the railing that ran around the platform and watched their progress. How did they do that? Just start talking to each other?  
  
Ellie's proposition surfaced in Grace's mind. If nothing else, Nick really did have a way of talking to people. That was a useful attribute to have around.  
  
Grace watched the two loop back towards the tower. She sighed, loathe to leave the platform, but she knew Preston had something new for her. Hopefully, whatever it was wouldn't require both of her arms for the next few days.

 

* * *

  
Grace found Preston and Nick sitting at one of the picnic tables close to the cooking area,    
  
"Hey General," Preston called to her as she approached. "Now a good time for that chat?"  
  
"Sure," she said and dug in her pocket for her pack of cigarettes. They were in her bag.  
  
"Here," Nick said and pushed his pack down towards the end of the table. Grace sat down on the same side as Nick and looked at him.  
  
"Remind me to grab one of the packs from my bag for you," she said as she grabbed the packet and pulled one out.  
  
"I'll just add it to your bill," Nick said with a smirk. Grace gave a small laugh.  
  
"Hope you take payments," she said and lit the cigarette. She looked at Preston, eager to hear his news but he was looking at her strangely. The smile died on her face.  
  
"What's up, Preston?" she asked, concerned. Had something happened while she was away? If it was bad, he would have told her straight away, wouldn't he?  
  
Preston cleared his throat and looked at his hands, "Uh, I just-" he looked back up at her and smiled, "I'm just glad to see you laughing."  
  
"Uh, thanks," Grace said, suddenly uncomfortable. She knew she had been fairly closed off when she'd met Preston, but that had been intentional. Maybe she hadn't laughed much, but why should she have? Before her mind could lead her further down that particular rabbit hole, Preston continued.  
  
"I think it's time to take the Castle, General," he said.  
  
"Okay," Grace said slowly. "What does that mean?"  
  
Grace leaned forward on her elbow and listened as Preston explained his plan. As he explained the value of the position, Grace couldn't help but wonder why it wasn't still occupied by Minutemen. So, she asked. Preston started to tell what sounded like a fairy tale, and Grace had to interrupt.  
  
"Hang on, sea monsters?" she asked incredulously. Preston shrugged and smiled sheepishly.  
  
"It's how the story goes," he said.  
  
Grace looked at Nick and said, "I don't suppose you've heard this story?"  
  
Nick nodded, "I don't know about sea monsters, but where there's water there's bound to be mirelurks."  
  
Grace leaned back and thought. The radio station would be a huge help, especially for those settlers living further away. If there was any of the Commonwealth fauna living in the Castle, they'd need to be cleared out, but the risk would be for the betterment of everyone. Grace nodded.  
  
"All right, we take the Castle," she said, "but we do it smart. I want recon before we decide how to go about it. State of the place, any visible infestation, surrounding area safety, all of it." It would take longer, but she couldn't in good conscience rush in and put the already limited numbers of the Minutemen at risk.  
  
"You got it," Preston said. "I'll take a small team first thing tomorrow morning. With a bit of luck, it'll take a few days."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Grace said, as she put out her cigarette.  
  
There was a brief silence, and then Preston took a deep breath.  
  
"So, uh, Nick wouldn't tell me," he started, "what happened to your arm?"  
  
Grace looked at him and then at Nick. Nick shrugged and passed his cigarettes back to her. Grace sighed and took them. It wasn't that she was offended by Preston asking, and she was grateful that Nick apparently would keep her business her own.  
  
No, she was irritated that she had to admit she'd been shot. At least the first time she'd had to admit it, she'd been covered in blood and dazed.  
  
"It's my shoulder and it'll be fine," she said, "it just needs a few more days to heal up."  
  
Preston leveled a look at her and said, "This doesn't sound like a pulled muscle, General."  
  
Grace grimaced. He was really going to make her say it, wasn't he?  
  
"I got shot," she said and lit her cigarette. No, it didn't sound any better out loud than it had the first time. She looked at Preston and could tell even by the dying light of the cooking fire that his normally dark skin had taken on an ashen hue.  
  
"Good lord, man, I'm fine," she said and shifted her sitting position. "I saw a doctor and everything."  
  
From next to her, Nick chuckled. "Had to be dragged there," he said.  
  
"I was preoccupied," Grace said back, defensive.    
  
"You'd think being shot'd be occupation enough," Nick said and flicked his eyes over to her. Grace realized he was joking with her.  
  
"Point is," Grace gestured with the cigarette, "I saw a doctor and Nick has volunteered to be my pack mule."  
  
"Until you're healed," Nick said.  
  
Grace made a noncommittal sound and glanced at Nick, who was frowning. Turnabout was fair play if he was going to pick on her, she figured. She tried and failed to keep the smile from her face.    
  
"Yes, fine, until my shoulder is healed," she said.  
  
Preston was pinching the bridge of his nose. Grace almost felt bad, but he had insisted on knowing, hadn't he?  
  
"I'm going to bed," Preston finally said, and looked at Grace. "You didn't tell Sturges, did you?" he asked.  
  
"God no," she said quickly.  
  
Preston nodded and stood, "Goodnight," he said.  
  
"Oh, one last thing, Preston," Grace called to him. "There's probably going to be another person in Sanctuary in the next day or so. His name's Gordon Monroe. I think he's a good fit for the trading post we talked about." Preston would probably be gone by the time Gordon arrived, but she liked to keep him informed.  
  
"We'll need another bed," Preston said.  
  
"He can have the one we just finished," Grace said.  
  
Preston put his hands on his hips and said, "That was yours."  
  
"Now it's Gordon's," Grace said. It wasn't like she'd been planning on staying in Sanctuary long. She just needed the power armor finished.  
  
Preston was shaking his head. "You'll never have a bed at this rate, General," he sighed.  
  
"Thanks, Preston," Grace said, electing to ignore his comment. Her sleeping bag was comfortable enough, really.    
  
Preston nodded and walked toward the bunkhouse.  
  
Nick shifted on the bench next to her.  
  
"Why not tell Sturges?" Nick asked, a tone of light curiosity in his voice. Grace looked at him and then flicked her cigarette ash over the side of the table.  
  
"Sturges," she said, "uh, well he's a worrier." It was an understatement, but it answered his question.  
  
Nick made a sound of understanding. "And you don't want him to worry about you?" he asked.  
  
"I want him to worry about his job," Grace said. Sturges had enough to think about, just like they all did.  
  
"Which is?" Nick asked.  
  
"Mechanic, mostly," Grace said. Was Nick just making conversation or was he gathering information? Grace wondered whether there was much separation between the role of detective and everyday existence. Maybe collecting intelligence was an ingrained habit after so long.  
  
Grace flicked the butt of her cigarette away and experimentally rolled her shoulder slightly. The muscle was stiff from disuse, but the shooting pain she expected didn't happen. Hopefully that meant it was almost healed, even with the pain she'd had in the morning.  
  
The walk to Sanctuary hadn't tired her out like she had hoped it would. Grace felt her hands, suddenly empty of the cigarette, fidget and tangle together. She needed something to do.  
  
"I'm going to go to the workshop," Grace said and nodded in its direction. "You're welcome along, if you like."  
  
"You're not going to bed?" Nick asked and looked at her from the corner of his eye.  
  
"Wouldn't do any good," Grace said, and stood. She stretched her legs and felt the pleasant burn in the muscles there that indicated a good day's walk. No, she had to do something. Laying down wouldn't do anything but frustrate her.  
  
Grace crossed the street to the carport and sat down at the workbench. She dug around in scrap bins for a few minutes until she found a few pieces of appropriately sized steel. She had been wanting to make a few proper lock picks for a while anyway, and she wouldn't make much noise so it wouldn't disturb the sleeping residents.  
  
Grace sat with her left hand braced on the workbench and began shaping the steel with a small file in her right hand. Hopefully, this would take all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just gonna pretend that rad scrubbers are for general radiation protection and go with it lol.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, kudos'd, and commented and especially you fine folks that talk to me at unlikely-val.tumblr.com!


	6. Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never a dull day in Sanctuary. Grace and Nick talk about partnership, run towards gunfire, and go on a rescue mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for spelling and all that stuff, as always this is only edited by me.
> 
> (speaking of which, does anyone want to beta future chapters? i've never worked with an editor/beta, but maybe it would be a good idea? thoughts?)
> 
> Gasoline by Halsey can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRHNi3QfFlE as well as Spotify!

Grace wasn't sure when, but at some point Nick had joined her in the workshop. She glanced at him. He sat in one of the chairs near the power armor station and balanced an open folder on his crossed knees. The bare light bulb above his head threw his face into sharp contrast. She couldn't even see his glowing eyes from beneath the brim of his hat.  
  
She looked back to her nearly complete picks. They weren't as nice as the ones she'd had in college, but they were a far sight better than the bobby pins she'd been relying on. They were simple and to the point: a short hook, a long hook, and a few tensioning tools. She'd keep the screwdriver and bobby pins for the easy to open locks but for the more difficult ones, she now had tools that could use more finesse.  
  
Grace dug around in the scraps bin for a few pieces of rubber. It would be thin enough to protect her fingers from the edges of the picks while affording a good feel for the pins she'd be setting. As she glued the rubber down in place, she looked over at Nick again. He was writing in the folder now. Grace assumed it was one of his cases.  
  
As she waited for the glue to set, she watched his right hand hold his pen. It wasn't getting very good traction, metal on metal. That explained why the case file she'd seen on Skinny Malone had looked like it had been written in a moving car.  
  
Grace finished gluing the rubber to the other pick and dug around on the workbench, in search of a pen of her own. After a few minutes, she found one in a cluttered drawer. She glued a few layers of rubber onto the pen and finished the prototype pen case in duct tape. She gave it an experimental squeeze and felt that the rubber gave way just enough for a good grip.  
  
Satisfied, she stood and walked over to Nick. Her movement drew his attention.  
  
"Try this," she said and held the pen out.  
  
Nick looked at the pen and back at Grace.  
  
"You don't have to-" he started, and Grace rolled her eyes.  
  
"I've seen your handwriting, Valentine," she said and smiled crookedly, "and you're lucky I could decipher it enough to find you in that vault. Just try it out, will you?"  
  
Nick took the pen and gave an experimental scribble in the margin of his case file. It looked much steadier in his hand.  
  
"Adjustments?" Grace asked.  
  
Nick shook his head, "No, no, it's fine." He gave a few more experimental scribbles that flowed into a fluid cursive script. Grace raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Well then," she said and cleared her throat, "that should save you some time."  
  
"Thank you, Grace," Nick said, his hat covered his face, but his voice was soft.  
  
"It's no problem," she said, uncomfortable. It was just a pen, it wasn't like it had taken much work. "It just, uh, looked like the uh- process could be more efficient," she finished lamely. God, why hadn't Kellogg shot her in the mouth instead?  
  
Nick chuckled, "This'll do it," he looked up at her and then over to the workbench. "What were you working on over there?"  
  
"Lock picks," Grace said and crossed the carport to the workbench to grab them. She returned to Nick and sat down in the chair next to his.  
  
"Damn near professional," Nick said appreciatively as Grace handed them to him.  
  
"Not as nice as pre-war, but they'll be better than bobby pins," Grace said. Nick handed the picks back and looked at her.  
  
"Pick a lot of locks in your time?" he asked.  
  
"I still don't know if I should answer that, Detective," Grace said, but then huffed a laugh and said, "I did, yeah. Nothing uh, illegal, or anything."  
  
Nick looked at her, and Grace figured he was waiting on an expansion.  
  
"In my undergrad program I was in a lock picking club," she said and turned the picks in her hands over. "It was a few of us computer engineering people. Low-tech hacking, we called it." She wanted to smile at the memory, but couldn't find the energy. She was suddenly very tired.  
  
"It's a good skill to have," Nick said. "Saved us some trouble already."  
  
Grace nodded. Of all the things she'd learned at school, picking a lock was definitely high on the list. She looked at the case file and wanted to ask about it, but was cut off before she started.  
  
"Miss Grace!"  
  
Grace swiveled around in the chair to see Codsworth hovering towards her.  
  
"Hey Cods," she replied.  
  
"I'm relieved to see you're back in one piece," Codsworth said.  
  
"Me too," Grace said and then gestured to Nick.  
  
"Codsworth, this is Nick Valentine. He's a detective," she said.  
  
"A detective! Oh, I do hope you can find young Shaun," Codsworth said. "Miss Grace has been sorely missed at home, you know." Grace looked at Codsworth curiously. He didn't think she was staying, did he? That she'd send Nick into the Commonwealth on her business?  
  
"Cods, I'm going too," Grace said as gently as she could. "I can't just sit around here." Codsworth's frame drooped.  
  
"I was afraid you'd say that," he said morosely, and then almost immediately perked up, "Well, while you're here, can I bring you some breakfast, Miss Grace?"  
  
Grace wasn't particularly hungry, but she knew that accepting the meal would appease Codsworth.  
  
"Sounds great," she said.  
  
"And you, Mr. Valentine? Can I get you anything?" Codsworth looked at Nick with one of his eyes. Nick raised a hand.  
  
"Nothing for me, thanks," he said.  
  
Codsworth hovered away towards the cooking area. It was then Grace realized the sun was rising. She stood and stretched her legs. If Codsworth was making breakfast, the rest of the settlement would be stirring soon. The too-small shirt was suddenly very irritating. She took the Pip-Boy off her right forearm, put it on the workbench with her new lock picks and then turned to Nick.  
  
"I'm uh," Grace gestured to the tower, "gonna go get changed."  
  
Nick nodded and opened the case file again.

* * *

  
  
In the third floor of the tower, Grace's drafty excuse for a room, she found a clean undershirt and a long sleeved coat. She thought the coat might have once been black, but it was more of a gray now. She took the plaid shirt off and debated leaving the bandages on her shoulder, but she decided that they'd have to come off sooner or later.  
  
Slowly, she peeled the bandages back. In the shafts of light from the rising sun, she saw the puckered and shiny scar. It wasn't pretty, but it seemed healed. She carefully pulled the undershirt over her head. Her shoulder was stiff and felt strange, but it wasn't painful. Once the coat was on with only a twinge from her shoulder, she felt lighter. She'd be fully healed soon.    
  
She reached up and pulled the small strip of leather out of what was left of her hair. She took a few minutes to retie it more securely and relish the feeling of using both arms. Her eyes followed the stairs up to the lookout platform. A few minutes up on the platform would center her, prepare her for the day.  
  
Grace climbed onto the platform lookout. The sun was almost fully visible over the horizon, and had painted the whole sky in the clean pink of morning. She leaned on the railing of the platform and looked out past the bridge and toward the Red Rocket. Somewhere out there was someone who could answer her questions. Why did the Institute have Shaun? What did they want?  
  
Another question nagged at her mind. She'd tried to push it away but now at the top of her tower and alone with her thoughts, she couldn't avoid it. What if the Institute was a better place for Shaun?  
  
The Commonwealth was dangerous, and deadly more often than not. Survival was a difficult and constant struggle. Would she be right in putting a child in the position to grow up in such a place? What if Shaun was safer in the Institute?  
  
What if he wasn't? Which was worse?

_Don't get lost in the weeds_ said Justine in the back of Grace's mind.

  
Grace scrubbed a hand down her face. No, she'd have to find him. If he was safer there, then there he'd stay. She couldn't make assumptions without data.  
  
She looked down towards the workshop and saw Codsworth talking with Nick. Codsworth gestured towards the tower with one arm and Nick turned and looked up towards her. Breakfast must be ready, then.  
  
Grace looked out one last time at the horizon and then went downstairs. 

* * *

  
  
  
As Grace finished the bowl of soup Codsworth had brought her, Sturges and Preston met her in the workshop.  
  
"We're headed out, General," Preston said and gestured to two Minutemen behind him. Grace hadn't yet learned their names, but the two women seemed more than capable of scouting the Castle.  
  
"Good luck, Preston," Grace said.  
  
"Thanks, General. I know I'm leaving you in good hands with Nick here," Preston said and nodded at the detective.  
  
"What am I, an antique?" Grace asked, a little affronted.  
  
Preston smiled and Sturges started "Well, technically-," but Grace cut him off.  
  
" _Bye_ , Preston," she said with a roll of her eyes. She gave a pointed look at Sturges.  
  
"I'm just here to make your shopping list, General," Sturges said, a broad smile across his face.  
  
"Did Preston fill you out on Gordon?" Grace asked as Sturges crouched down and started rummaging through the workshop for parts.  
  
"Sure did, General. I hear he's gonna be our new trading post?" Sturges replied, his voice a little muffled by the bin his head was stuck mostly into.  
  
"If he's willing," Grace responded. She hoped Gordon would agree, but she wouldn't force it on him.  
  
"Oh, kid!" came a vague call from the entrance of the carport. Grace looked over to see Mama Murphy standing frozen and staring at Nick, still seated near the power armor.  
  
Grace rose and walked to the small woman. "What is it, Mama Murphy?" she asked.  
  
"You found him, didn't you?" Mama Murphy's hazy blue eyes went from Nick to Grace. Grace flushed. Of course the old woman would remember that hallucination. If she explained why Nick was there, who he was, maybe Mama Murphy would come to her senses.  
  
Grace looked back at Nick, who had closed his file and stood. He walked over to Grace, who said, "Nick is a detective, Mama Murphy. He's going to help-"  
  
"I'm so happy for you, kid," Mama Murphy interrupted her. She looked close to tears.  
  
"Uh," Grace involuntarily said, and then continued, "Thank you." Should she say more? Why was Mama Murphy looking at her like that? A thought occurred to her.  
  
"Mama Murphy, you aren't still on those chems are you?" Grace asked.  
  
"No, I stick to my word kid," the small woman responded, sounding less emotional now. "No more chems, no more Sight."  
  
"Sight?" Nick asked, looking at Mama Murphy. She peered up into his face and smiled.  
  
"I saw you, sonny," she said, and then looked at Grace. "Even if you still don't believe me."  
  
Grace was caught between indignation and embarrassment. Of course she didn't believe Mama Murphy's hallucinations were anything but that. She had taken the gamble with Skinny Malone and Darla being the fat man and the angry woman, yes, but they would have had to fight their way out if she hadn't. Probably.  
  
"Uh, General?" came Sturges's voice from behind her. Grace turned to see him holding a piece of paper. The shopping list. An acceptable way to exit the conversation.  
  
"Thank you," Grace breathed and took the paper from him. Sturges nodded with a smile and turned back to the workbench.  
  
"We have to go now," Grace said as she turned back to Mama Murphy.  
  
Mama Murphy just smiled and said, "Yeah, kid. You have a lot to find."  
  


* * *

  
  
Their first stop was at the Red Rocket. Truthfully, Grace hadn't expected to need to go much beyond that. Sturges's list, however, was extensive.  
  
Nick held the list and read over it while Grace looked around at the bins and boxes up on the high shelves. Why had she put up so many shelves?  
  
Carefully, she started reaching for a box, but Nick's arm reached it first. Grace lowered her hand and looked at him.  
  
"I'm almost healed up, you know," she said as she gestured to the next box that needed to be pulled down.  
  
"Almost only counts with hand grenades," Nick said as he grabbed the box and set it down on the work table next to the first.  
  
"No horseshoes in the apocalypse?" Grace asked as she pointed out another box and started going through the first.  
  
"You seen any horses lately?" Nick asked as he placed the most recent box down by the first two.  
  
"Hard to say, really," Grace said and looked at Nick. "How many heads do they have now?"  
  
Nick's small smile didn't answer her question.  
  
"So who lives here?" he asked as they rummaged in the boxes.  
  
"I did, for a while," Grace said. "It's a good workshop."  
  
"What brought you to Sanctuary?" he asked.  
  
"Back to Sanctuary," Grace corrected. Nick looked at her from under the brim of his hat.  
  
"I lived there, uh, before," Grace said. "Wouldn't have made it to the vault, otherwise."  
  
"Oh?" Nick prompted her.  
  
"Just a hop, skip, and a jump to cold storage," Grace replied. She tried to sound flippant. Maybe if she sounded like she didn't care the tomb of a vault was so close, one day she wouldn't.  
  
"So why did you go back?" Nick asked. He was alternating checking Sturges's list and the contents of the box, but it seemed to Grace that the motion was more for show.  
  
"Preston and his group needed help," she said. "A lot. And Cods wouldn't stop 'checking up' on me at all hours so," she shrugged, "I went back."  
  
"Full-time?" Nick asked. Grace looked at him. What was he getting at?  
  
Nick made a production of looking around the garage.  
  
"Rations, bedroll, spare clothes, tools- even decorations," he gestured to the silly comic book poster she'd slapped on the wall, "I'd sooner believe someone lived here than a place where they don't have a bed." He looked at her and his bright eyes seemed to look straight through her.  
  
Detective, Grace reminded herself.  
  
"I, uh," Grace said, looking down at the box she'd forgotten, "Sanctuary gets a little, uh, close, sometimes." Grace moved to the workbench and started opening drawers.  
  
"So how did you end up in Diamond City?" she asked. It was fair to ask him what he'd asked her, she figured.   
  
"I rescued the Mayor's daughter," Nick said, and Grace glanced at him. He'd sorted out the parts they needed in the boxes and was putting the unneeded parts back.  
  
"Oh?" Grace asked.  
  
Nick nodded and turned to face her. He leaned against the work table and said, "The mayor then was a man named Henry Roberts. His daughter was a gal of about fifteen, and his pride and joy."  
  
Grace leaned on the workbench and faced Nick as he spoke.  
  
"Young Miss Roberts," Nick continued, "decided she'd run off with some caravan hand she'd uh," Nick cleared his throat and looked away, " _known_ for an evening. Turns out he was in a gang of kidnappers. I didn't even know who I was rescuing, just stumbled across a crying girl and four toughs."  
  
"You took on four guys with no backup?" Grace asked, impressed.  
  
"Didn't have to," Nick said with a sly smile. "Back then, synths were even more of an unknown than they are now. I told them I was rigged to explode and started going _beep, beep, beep_."  
  
Grace didn't know if it was Nick's falsetto beeping, the mental image, or the sheer absurdity of the story, but whatever it was made her dissolve into laughter. Her stomach hurt with the feeling of it.  
  
"Oh my god, Nick, are you serious?" she asked through her laughter. Nick nodded.  
  
"Hardest part of that rescue was keeping from laughing as they climbed over each other to get away," he said with a chuckle.  
  
Grace looked at Nick for a few seconds.    
  
"Your secretary offered me a job when we were in Diamond City," Grace said, surprising herself. She hadn't really planned on talking about it with Nick.  
  
"Had a feeling she might," Nick said. Grace made an inquisitive sound and he continued, "Piper suggested I encourage you to take the offer, I imagine at the same time Ellie was making it."  
  
Grace tilted her chin and regarded him. "What did you tell Piper?" she asked.  
  
"I'd let you think about it," he said. "What did you tell Ellie?"  
  
"That I'd think about it," Grace said.  
  
"Which means by the time we get back to Diamond City, we'll be facing a united front," Nick said and looked around at the garage. "Whatever you decide, I'll still help you find your son," he said.  
  
Grace looked at the work table. There was a lot more to get before the rad scrubbers could be built. She had time to think it over.  
  
"Better get back to it, then," Grace said.  
  
They worked in silence for a few minutes, putting the boxes back and gathering the materials to bring back to Sanctuary. Grace had almost finished bundling some spare wire she was pretty sure she'd need when gunfire rang out. It wasn't from the direction of Sanctuary.  
  
Grace and Nick looked at each other for the fraction of a second before they both ran to the door.  
  
"Abernathy Farm," Grace said, breathless, and patted her holster. Kellogg's gun was still there. Out of habit, she slung her rifle over her shoulder.  
  
She started jogging toward the farm before she was really aware of her movement. Grace kept her body as low as possible as she reached the crest of the hill to see the farm. The gunfire had stopped, and Grace could see smoke rising from a turret gun.  
  
"You always run toward gunfire?" Nick asked, low and to her right.  
  
"Usually," she said, as she scanned the farm. It was still. "That a problem?" she asked.  
  
"The only running my last partner did was at the mouth," Nick said quietly. Grace smiled.  
  
"Can't promise I'll live up to my predecessor," Grace said, and then caught movement.  
  
"There," Nick said and Grace grabbed her rifle. The scope on it would give her a better view.  
  
It was Blake Abernathy.  
  
"Come on," Grace said, and she kept low as she jogged toward the farm.  
  
"Mr. Abernathy!" she called out as they got closer, "It's Grace." Whatever the turret had been shooting at, she didn't want him pointing a gun at her.  
  
Abernathy's head turned toward her.  
  
"Oh thank god it's you," he said, "They took her, they took my Lucy!" He was pale and shaking, tears streamed down his face. He looked ready to faint.  
  
"Let's get you inside," Grace said and slung her rifle back over her shoulder. She led him to the large kitchen table and got him to sit down.  
  
Nick followed, head turning every way while Grace got Blake through the door. Grace was grateful for the extra pair of eyes.  
  
"Okay Blake," Grace said, keeping her voice calm and even, "What happened?"  
  
"They said they'd be back," he said, voice small, "they want money for her. I don't have-"  
  
"Hey," Grace crouched down next to the seated man. She had to get him calm. "Deep breaths. We can get her back, but I need to know where."  
  
"The stockpile, just south of here," Abernathy said. Grace knew where it was.  
  
"Alright, Blake, we're going to go. Are you going to be okay? Want me to send someone from Sanctuary down?" she asked.  
  
Abernathy looked at her dazedly. Grace made the decision for him.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to get Sturges down here to fix that turret. Don't worry, I'll take care of this," Grace said.  
  
Grace looked up to see Nick standing in the door, facing toward the farm. She stood and walked over to him.  
  
"Let's get back," she said, and looked back at the man at the table. He was sobbing into his arms. Grace clenched her jaw and started towards Sanctuary.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Sturges!" she called out as they got close to the carport workshop.  
  
"Up here, General!" she heard from the tower.  
  
"I need you down here," she called back, and reached towards the boxes of ammo. A few seconds later, Sturges appeared. He looked from Grace to Nick and back to Grace.  
  
"Where's the fire?" he asked.  
  
"Abernathy's been hit by raiders," Grace said, looking through boxes for the correct caliber, "at least one turret needs seeing to, and Abernathy won't be fixing it with the state he's in. Lucy's kidnapped."  
  
"Jesus," Sturges said under his breath, and then, "I'm on it, General. You going after Lucy?"  
  
"I am," Grace replied, and then stilled and looked at Nick. He hadn't signed up for chasing raiders across the Commonwealth. "I don't know how long this is going to take," she said. He looked at her expectantly. She gestured toward the power armor, "I mean, with the rad scrubbers and now with Lucy- If you have other business, I understand. This isn't your fight."  
  
Nick adjusted his hat, "How am I supposed to help you find your kid if some raider puts you in a ditch?" he asked with a smirk. Grace snorted.  
  
"Appreciate the thought, Valentine," she said dryly and started handing him ammunition.  
  
"Good man," Sturges said with a clap to Nick's back and took off towards his tools in the tower. Grace moved on to the box of medical supplies.  
  
She was grabbing stimpacks when she looked at Nick. Would a stimpack work on him? What if he got injured?

She grabbed extra, just in case.    
  


* * *

  
  
In retrospect, Grace figured the rescue mission went better than it probably should have.  
  
The late afternoon sun didn't give them much cover, and with her shoulder still occasionally giving a twinge of displeasure, sniping the raiders outside of the stockpile was a challenge.  
  
A challenge, but not impossible.  
  
The Gunner nest she'd cleared out a few weeks ago on the old freeway was still empty, and a perfect cover. After all the raiders she could see were down, they climbed down and cautiously picked their way to the entrance of the stockpile. At the door Nick looked at Grace.  
  
"I'll take point in here," he said. Grace wanted to argue. This was her rescue operation, after all. But, her shoulder was already starting to feel sore with the exertion of the sniper rifle. She nodded and switched to Kellogg's gun.  
  
"I got your six," Grace said. The least she could do was make sure no one snuck up behind them.  
  
There were less raiders in the stockpile than there had been outside, thankfully. Nick took them down without much difficulty. They found Lucy in a side room, tied up and upset, but safe and uninjured. When she saw Grace, she gave a grim smile.  
  
"Are you alright?" Grace asked as she crouched and untied Lucy's hands.  
  
"Better than those raiders," Lucy replied, and looked from Grace to Nick, who was standing guard. "Who's that?"  
  
"Nick's a friend," Grace answered, more automatically than anything. She could explain later, once they were out of the stockpile.  
  
Grace pulled Lucy to her feet, and Lucy shook the blood back into her limbs.  
  
"Let's get out of here," Grace said.  
  


* * *

  
  
The sun sank below the horizon as they reached the farm. Lucy was quiet. Grace wondered how she was feeling, but decided against asking. It wasn't really her business.  
  
Sturges was at the kitchen table with Blake. It didn't look like Blake had moved since she and Nick had left.  
  
Blake stood so fast his chair fell back with a clatter. He ran between Grace and Nick to hug his daughter. He was crying again. Grace looked away and caught Sturges's eye. She moved towards him and away from the crying pair.  
  
"Turrets?" Grace asked quietly. Sturges nodded.  
  
"Fixed the busted one. Went ahead and gave the others a look, while I was here. Nothing I couldn't fix with what I had on me," he said.  
  
"Thanks, Sturges," Grace said. She'd rest easier knowing the farm was as safe as they could make it.  
  
"No problem, General," he said and stood. "I'm gonna head back to Sanctuary."  
  
"Right behind you," Grace said. She wanted to give the Abernathys privacy.  
  
Nick moved aside to give Sturges room to pass the Abernathys. They took up most of the doorway with their hug. Sturges patted Blake on the back as he left the house.  
  
Grace looked at Nick and nodded towards the door. He slipped out of the doorway and stood on the porch. Grace was almost out of the door when Blake called out to her.  
  
"Grace, wait," he said. Grace turned her head and looked at him. His face was red and his eyes were puffy, but he was smiling.  
  
And then he was hugging her.  
  
Grace stood still, willing the feeling of panic down. She'd never been a hugger, even with Nate. She'd only hugged her own mother at Christmas. Blake was saying something. She tried to listen.  
  
"-so much, I can't thank you enough," he was saying. Grace awkwardly patted him on the arm. Was that enough reassurance? She peeled the man back and wanted to step away, but she knew that would seem rude. He was standing too close.  
  
"We're happy to help," Grace said. She looked at Nick, now at her side. She willed him to say something, whatever it was that she didn't know to say.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask your name," Blake said and she looked at him. He was talking to Nick.  
  
"Nick Valentine," he said, "I'm just glad we could lend a hand."  
  
Blake's smile grew and he looked at Lucy. She smiled tiredly at her father.  
  
"Well, Mr. Valentine, any friend of Grace's is a friend of ours," Lucy said, "You're welcome here any time."  
  
"Thank you," Nick said, and then took a step backward, out of the door. "We'll let you two get some rest."  
  
Grace was overcome with relief. She followed Nick out of the door and heard it shut behind her.  
  
"You alright?" Nick asked quietly as they walked towards Sanctuary. "Looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin back there."  
  
"Not big on hugs," she said.  
  
"That it?" he asked.  
  
Grace was confused. Should there be more? What was he asking?  
  
"Spell it out for me, Nick," she said finally. "I have no idea what you're asking me."  
  
Nick stopped walking and looked at her. "A kidnapped kid returned to a parent," he said, "just seems like the kind of thing that might be hard to watch, is all."  
  
Grace blinked. She hadn't drawn the parallel between Blake's and her own situation until Nick had said it. She'd been focused on the mission. Would she have been able to concentrate on saving Lucy if she'd been stuck in her head on her own problems? Grace rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly.  
  
"I can't do that," she said, "make those comparisons, I mean. I had a job to do and I did it."  
  
Nick's eyes glowed in the dusk. He seemed to be looking for something in her face. Grace waited, but he didn't say anything.  
  
"What is it?" Grace asked. What was he looking for? Did he think she was trying to hide something?  
  
"Most of the parents I've dealt with," Nick said slowly, as though he was choosing his words carefully, "have been like Mr. Abernathy back there."  
  
Ah. Grace nodded, suddenly understanding. She didn't need Nick to tell her what she already knew. She was a poor excuse for a mother.  
  
Grace started walking again, slower.  
  
"I never wanted children," Grace said, "I'm too-" she gestured vaguely, "I'm not mother material." Grace looked at Nick. Would he think she was a bad person? He wouldn't be the first.  
  
"If you don't want to talk about this," Nick said, but Grace interrupted him.  
  
"I don't mind," she said and found she really meant it. "You should probably know, anyway, if you're going to make an informed decision on this whole partner thing." Grace looked in the direction of Sanctuary and then changed course. The Red Rocket would be more private.  
  
Nick followed her. Hopefully he'd still want to help her after this.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase Grace and Nick are alluding to is "almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades". From what I can tell it's not terribly anachronistic to use the phrase with regard to the Fallout timeline/divide. Also I just like the saying.


	7. Human After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace tells Nick her plan, Codsworth is bossy for a butler, and Grace is.. hungry? Yeah, that's probably it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! A bit of business before we get into the chapter: there is a brief mention of miscarriage and reluctant/unwanted pregnancy in this chapter. At this point I do not have plans to expand on this topic further outside of this chapter, but I do want to give fair warning. 
> 
> This is still un-beta'd and so all editing and stuff is done by me. If you're interested in proofreading/betaing/whatever please leave a comment or shoot me a message at unlikely-val.tumblr.com! 
> 
> Also, since I've started writing this story, there's a line in the Star Trek episode The City on the Edge of Forever that I've been thinking about a lot.
> 
> "Let me help. A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He'll recommend those three words even over I love you."
> 
> It's an important part of Kirk's character, and gives a new and interesting nuance to his interactions. Help, in Kirk's eyes, is love in action. Just.. throwing that out there. 
> 
> Human After All is by Daft Punk, and can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXYeARRyDWk as well as on Spotify!

Grace sat down at the counter of the Red Rocket. The stool next to her squeaked with Nick's weight. Grace dug out her cigarettes from a pocket and lit one. She needed something to do with her hands.  
  
"Did the other Nick- the old Nick- did he have much to do with the military?" she asked.  
  
"No," Nick said, "he was just a cop."  
  
Grace took a breath. She'd have to start from the beginning, then.  
  
She suddenly huffed a laugh. "The morning the bombs dropped, Nate was practicing a speech he was giving at the veteran's hall," she said. The memory seemed absurd. "They said it was an honor." Grace sighed and brought her empty hand up to rub her eyes. She wanted a drink.  
  
"Hang on," she said, and stood. She made her way to the small office room she'd left mostly intact. There had been a bottle of whiskey in the desk she'd left alone. Grace found two mostly clean glasses and brought all three items back to the counter. She poured two generous portions and capped the bottle off.  
  
"Dunno if you drink," she said as she lifted the glass, "but if you have a glass in front of you I'm not drinking alone."  
  
Nick laughed quietly. He lifted his glass and tapped it against her own.  
  
"Cheers," he said. Grace took a bigger sip than she meant to, but managed to choke it down. Radiation hadn't aged it well.  
  
"Nate was fighting in the war for most of our marriage," she said. "By the time they finally let him come home, he set off metal detectors with all the shrapnel in his legs. They called him a war hero."  
  
Grace looked down at her hands. Her cigarette was out.  
  
She flicked it away and busied herself with another.  
  
"But," she said, lighting the fresh cigarette, "they weren't done with him. They needed a poster boy. Recruitment was down, desertion was up, even with them throwing the deserters in those god-awful camps," her voice got quieter. She knew she had been lucky in the long run, but that didn't make her feel better. "He couldn't say no. We couldn't say no. I don't know what would have happened to us if we didn't play the part of perfect family." Grace took another, smaller sip of whiskey. "But we were both too damn proud to try to run anyway."  
  
"Sounds brave," Nick said. Grace scoffed.  
  
"He was that too," she said quietly. "But the military wanted him to be this thing, a model of success- or I guess, what they thought that looked like. Regardless of what we wanted. So," she sighed, "we tried. I was in law school at the time and all the stress, well- I couldn't-" Grace looked down. The only person she'd ever told about the miscarriage was Nate. It had been so early on that she had thought it was just an exceptionally late and painful period. Once she realized, she'd been ashamed of how relieved she'd felt, like her body knew she wouldn't be a good parent.  
  
Nick didn't need her dumping two-hundred year old guilt on his shoulders.  
  
"Eventually we had Shaun," she said, "and immediately got Codsworth." Grace smiled at the memory. Codsworth had been the best part of the whole ordeal. "And then, a few months later the bombs dropped."  
  
"Not that I don't appreciate it," Nick said after a pause, "but why are you telling me this?"  
  
Grace turned her head and looked at Nick. She'd been cowardly, hardly the kind of person she'd want to inflict on someone else. If he wasn't going to judge her about not fighting the hijacking of her life, would he hear out her plan? Or would he just think she was determined to abandon the child she had never wanted in the first place?  
  
It would be simpler if she didn't feel responsible for Shaun.  
  
"How much of the Institute do you remember, Nick? Is it- is it possible they're not as bad as we think?" Grace asked.  
  
Nick's brow furrowed, "I don't think so," he said, "I remember white rooms, isolation... You're always being watched in there. Not much else."  
  
Grace looked back out the broken window to the road.  
  
"I told you all that to tell you this," she said, "if the Institute is a safer place than the Commonwealth, then I'm leaving Shaun there." She looked back at Nick. His face was the picture of careful neutrality.  
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
"I'm not a good parent, I'm not programmed that way, I know that," she said, "but if the best thing I can do for him is give him a safe place to grow up, then I'll do that." Grace ran a hand across the stubble on her scalp and looked down, "Hell, it'd be wrong not to."  
  
"And if the Institute isn't safe?" he asked.  
  
It wasn't often that Grace felt like the General of the Minutemen, but she felt a strange rush at the question, almost like adrenaline. Fire flooded her lungs and stomach. She looked at Nick evenly and said, "Then I take him back and make the Commonwealth safer instead."  
  
"All due respect," Nick said, "you sound like a great parent." He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip of the whiskey.  
  
Grace cocked a smile and finished her own drink.  
  
"Knowing all this, will you still help me?" Grace asked.  
  
Nick regarded her for a few moments before nodding slowly, "Knowing that you'll do whatever it takes to keep your kid safe? Yeah, I'll still help you," he said. "Though I oughta tell you, the chance of the Institute being a decent place for anyone is somewhere between slim and none."  
  
Grace nodded. It was an outcome she had to expect and plan for. She looked down and toyed with her empty glass.  
  
"Thanks for hearing me out, Nick," she said. She couldn't remember the last time she felt comfortable talking with someone. It was strange, like using her shoulder after keeping it still for days.  
  
"Don't mention it," he said with a shrug. Grace looked at him. He made this look so easy. If he kept this up, she'd have her mind made up on the partnership offer before she knew it.  
  
She cautioned herself, preemptively telling herself what she knew Justine would say. Take a step back, never make decisions when whiskey is involved. It could wait.  
  
"I'm turning in," she said and stood. "Those books are still in my bag if you want to read."  
  
Nick followed Grace into the garage and rummaged in the bag while she pulled her bedroll out.  
  
"Night, Grace," he said from the doorway, book in hand.  
  
"Night, Nick," she replied.  
  
Grace went to sleep slowly, the occasional turn of book pages the only sound she could hear.  


* * *

  
Grace cracked her eyes. If the brightness of the garage was anything to go on, the sun was well into the sky. What time was it?  
  
She sat up and stretched to reach the Pip-Boy by the foot of her bedroll.  
  
It was after eleven.  
  
"Oh my god," she mumbled to herself. She'd slept half the day away.  
  
Quickly, she stood and tied her hair into a ponytail as she walked into the Red Rocket dining area. Codsworth and Nick were just outside by the old coolant pumps.  
  
"Gents," she said as a greeting. They both looked at her in varying degrees of guilt.  
  
"I hope we didn't wake you, Miss Grace," Codsworth said, brandishing a bowl of what looked like soup.  
  
"Shouldn't have let me sleep all day," Grace said, looking at Nick. He raised his hands in surrender.  
  
"From what I hear, waking you up is a health hazard," he said.  
  
"I merely suggested Mr. Valentine be outside of arm's reach," Codsworth said, not a little indignantly.  
  
Grace scrubbed a hand down her face. Damn Codsworth. She'd only swung at him once, and that was a few centuries ago.  
  
"I startle easily," Grace said into her hands. "Just throw something at me, I'll get up."  
  
"Mr. Valentine will most certainly not _just throw something at you_ ," Codsworth said firmly and looked with one of his eyes at Nick, as if to reassure himself of the statement.  
  
"Nothing that'll cause a concussion, Cods," Grace said with false sweetness as she took the bowl from him and turned to go back inside. She shut the door behind her, blocking out the stream of things Codsworth was explicitly stating Nick should not throw at her to wake her up.  
  
Grace set the soup on the workbench and went to find Sturges's shopping list of rad scrubber pieces. She knew there was a good portion of the list left to get. She was digging through her bag when Nick walked into the garage.  
  
"What are you allowed to throw at me?" she asked as she looked for the list.  
  
"Flowers, I think," Nick said, sounding unsure. Grace snorted.  
  
"I prefer those big purple ones," she said with a shake of her head. Codsworth was truly ridiculous. "Where'd the shopping list get off to?" Grace asked.  
  
Nick produced it out of a pocket and handed it to her.  
  
"Oh. Thanks," she said and sat down at the work bench. She unfolded the paper and saw new notation on the list. An elegant scrawl next to many of the pieces listed potential places to find them. Grace looked up at Nick. "You've been busy," she said.  
  
"Had some time to kill," he said. He didn't sound upset, but Grace felt the guilt anyway. She'd wasted both of their time.  
  
"I am sorry I slept so much," Grace said. The lost time nagged at her. They could have gotten so much done by now.  
  
"Look, I don't eat or sleep or any of that," Nick said, "but if you need to, you do it."  
  
"Brag about it," Grace said dryly and looked at the list again. "I think if we make this into a circuit we can have all the pieces day after tomorrow."  
  
Nick nodded, "Good plan."  
  
Grace sat and ate her soup while Nick compared the locations he'd listed with the map on Grace's Pip-Boy. She was almost done when he spoke again.  
  
"How's your shoulder feeling?" he asked.  
  
Grace rolled it and felt only a little tightness.  
  
"Seems okay," she said.  
  
"This is going to take us through some rough neighborhoods," Nick said, looking at the map.  
  
"I'm good for it if you are," Grace said. After sniping those raiders, she felt better about her shoulder's progress. She looked at Nick. "Are you telling me there are non-rough neighborhoods?"  
  
Nick cocked an eyebrow in concession.  
  
"Well," Grace said, standing and picking the Pip-Boy up from the workbench, "no time like the present. Let's get out of here."  
  
Grace packed her bag and slung it on to her back. Her shoulder twinged a little, but didn't feel painful. She looked at an empty bag on her worktable she'd been considering re-purposing. Almost on a whim, she dropped .44 magnum ammo and stimpacks into the empty bag and handed it to Nick. She still didn't know if a stimpack would help if he got injured in the field, but at least he'd have extra ammo.  
  
Nick took the bag with a nod and they started down the drive towards Concord.  
  
"General!" came from behind them. Sturges was jogging to catch up with them. Grace's stomach dropped. She met him in the street.  
  
"Carla just got here," he said, "There's place called Finch farm. They're asking for the Minutemen. Sounds like they're in some trouble."  
  
Grace pulled the map up on her Pip-Boy. "Where's Finch farm?" she asked.  
  
"Not too far from the Slog," Sturges said, coming around to her side and pointing south of the Ghoul run farm. Grace's skin prickled at the closeness, but she ignored the sensation. "Carla said you're better off coming from the west or the south," he continued, "apparently there's a big raider camp to the north of the farm."  
  
"Three guesses what Finch farm needs help with," Nick said, looking at Grace. She nodded.  
  
"Thanks, Sturges," Grace said, "we'll head that way."  


* * *

  
Nick's hunch wasn't wrong.  
  
A runaway son, a stolen sword, and an abandoned factory full of flamethrower-wielding raiders seemed almost laughably mundane. Just another day in the Commonwealth.  
  
Halfway through the search and rescue operation in Sagus Ironworks, Grace had to admit that her day-after-tomorrow estimation was looking less likely. She threw herself behind a corner as a jet of fire roared past her.  
  
Why the hell would anyone willingly join these raiders?  
  
She crouched and fired blindly around the corner. The raider- apparently they called themselves the Forged- let out a scream. Grace peeked around the corner to see the woman holding her arm. Grace shot her again and the screams stopped abruptly. So much for stealth.  
  
Grace looked at Nick. The hem of his coat was still smoking a little, but he didn't seem injured.  
  
"You okay?" she asked and reloaded Kellogg's pistol.  
  
"Was gonna ask you that," Nick said. He was looking above at the catwalks. It was hard to tell if there were more raiders hiding up there.  
  
Instead of replying, Grace crept onwards. A terminal glowed near- a Protectron.  
  
"Think he'll mind lending a hand?" Grace asked as she holstered the pistol and approached the terminal.  
  
"Y'know," Nick drawled from behind her, "I'm fluent in uncooperative old machine. Want me to take a crack at that for you?"  
  
Grace looked back at him. She knew she could probably get the machine up and running, but she found herself nodding. The offer had somewhat blindsided her. She was so used to just doing everything herself that she occasionally forgot that she didn't have to. The perils of traveling almost exclusively alone, she figured. Or with a dog.    
  
"And they say chivalry is dead," Grace said, hoping the joke covered her momentary freeze. She stepped out of the way and took a look out position as Nick argued under his breath with the terminal. The Protectron powered up and stepped out of its charging base.  
  
They left the Protectron wandering around and climbed up to the catwalk. Grace took a few seconds to pilfer through a few containers. It couldn't hurt to look for parts for the rad scrubbers while they were here, after all.  
  
"Jackpot," Nick said and she turned her head. He was holding up what looked like a bundle of wire. The fiber optics she'd been privately concerned about finding. He tucked the bundle into his bag.  
  
"Nice," Grace said appreciatively. She couldn't tell if she was more relieved about the find or the fact that Nick didn't seem to have a problem helping her essentially steal from the raiders. She knew they hadn't come by any of it honestly, but still it had been a concern.  
  
They pushed forward and reached a door. Grace could hear an argument from the other side.  
  
"Sounds like things are getting heated in there," Nick said.  
  
"Oof," Grace said in mock pain as she checked her guns. They were loaded and ready for a fight. "That's terrible."  
  
Nick quirked a small smile. Grace took that to mean he felt no remorse for the joke. She shook her head and pushed the door open.

* * *

 

  
Grace liked Abigail Finch.  
  
She stood with Nick and listened to the woman dress down her husband and her son. The two men looked thoroughly abashed. Grace nodded to herself, this was how the Commonwealth should be. The motion made her neck hurt. The burn she'd gotten from Slag was small, though, and an even smaller price to pay for a reunited family- not to mention another group willing to support the Minutemen.  
  
"Thank you," Abigail said and Grace realized she was now talking to her and Nick.  
  
"The Minutemen are always happy to help," Grace said. The practiced phrase came out easily.  
  
"You're welcome to stay here tonight," Abigail said, gesturing to the campfire. "I'm afraid we don't have much to offer."  
  
"Thank you," Grace said too fast, but Abigail smiled. She looked relieved.  
  
Grace sat down at the campfire as the Finch family went inside. She figured they had things to talk about. She went about getting her bedroll set up and a can of Cram open. She set the open can close to the fire and settled on the bedroll.  
  
"Should probably dress that," Nick said to her from across the campfire. His bright eyes were on her neck.  
  
Grace sighed, "Yeah." She hadn't wanted to waste a stimpack on the small injury. It hurt, but as far as she could remember, that was good when it came to burns.

Grace opened her bag and dug for bandages. "Don't suppose you have a mirror on you?" she asked. It would be easier if she could see what she was dressing. She put some medical tape across the border of a square of gauze. Nick's shoes entered her periphery vision.  
  
"Uh," he said as he knelt down, "need a hand?" He looked apprehensive.  
  
Grace felt a tug of something in her guts. She looked down at the square in her hands. If they were going to be partners, they'd probably end up patching each other up at some point, she figured. May as well get it out of the way.  
  
"Sure," she said. Grace steeled herself and tilted her head away to the right and back, showing her throat. Nick held the square up and then lowered it again.  
  
"Could you, uh," Nick gestured to her coat, "the tape'll get caught."  
  
"Oh," Grace said. She looked down at the offending material and clumsily pulled the coat down her shoulder. For good measure she pulled the neckline of the undershirt to the side as well, "Better?" she asked, looking anywhere but at Nick. This was more awkward than she'd thought it would be. She made a mental note to not get hurt ever again, if the outcome was going to be anything like this.    
  
Nick didn't answer but held the square up again. Grace pressed her lips together as two very different thumbs smoothed the tape across her skin. It was a strange sensation. At least she hadn't jumped.  
  
"Gonna have to start asking people to aim for my right side," Grace said. Maybe if she made a joke, the weird feeling in her stomach would go away.  
  
"You'll end up looking like me at this rate," Nick said and withdrew his hands. "How's that?"  
  
Grace turned her head back to Nick and nodded, "Better, thanks," she looked toward the campfire. The can of Cram was steaming.  
  
Maybe she was hungry.  
  
Nick stood and retreated to the other side of the campfire. Grace watched him.  
  
"You didn't get hit, did you?" she asked. The least she could do was return the favor.  
  
"Just the coat," Nick replied, "and it's seen worse."  
  
Grace moved to pick the can of Cram out of the fire up with one of the potholders she'd taken to carrying with her and said, "Well I'm not much of a seamstress, but if I can help, I will."  
  
Nick chuckled, "Seems to be your M.O."  
  
Grace ducked her head and busied her hands with the food in front of her. Their scavenger hunt had yet again been derailed by a rescue mission.  
  
"One of the reasons I've stuck around," Nick continued, and Grace looked up. "You seem to have a fondness for helping."  
  
Grace turned that over in her head.  
  
"You really don't mind?" she asked. "You could be in Diamond City, not running across the Commonwealth." She knew she'd asked him before, but he hadn't given her a straight answer.  
  
"I was always the in-the-field type myself," he said, and looked towards the Finch house. "And there's a lot of people out here who could use a hand."  
  
Grace took a bite of her food and thought as she chewed. Nick was really turning out to be one of the most decent people she'd ever met. She still wasn't sure what she had to offer, but she made up her mind.  
  
"Hey, Valentine," she said. Nick looked at her. "About that whole, uh, job offer. If- if you're still interested, I think I'd like to give it a shot."  
  
Nick's eyes disappeared behind the brim of his hat but she could see his lips tilt into a pleased smile.  
  
"What changed your mind?" he asked as he patted his pockets. Grace watched him for a few seconds before she tossed him her cigarettes. The packet landed in his lap. He looked up at her.  
  
Grace shrugged and kept eating. She wasn't sure how to explain it herself. Nick was someone she could hold a conversation with far easier after a few days than people she'd known here for months. He wanted to help her. He'd been the only person that hadn't asked her to put aside her own issues for his own. He'd been the only person to ask if she was alright. Not to mention that he was a capable fighter.  
  
_Button up your blouse, Grace, we don't need to see your soul_ Justine's cool voice advised.  
  
She knew couldn't say any of that without sounding like she was gushing. And she was certainly not going to be doing that.  
  
"Just seems like a good idea," she settled on.  
  
"Well," Nick said, "I'm glad to hear it."

Grace exhaled and finished her food. She was pretty happy with he idea herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and staying with me this far! Updates will hopefully continue on a more regular basis from here on out. :)


	8. Undisclosed Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rad scrubbers, difficult people, and Grace is still not smooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's Valentine's day so here's an update! 
> 
> Undisclosed Desires is by Muse, and can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8OOWcsFj0U as well as on Spotify!

Grace took a deep breath as the green wall came into view. The sight of it gave her a feeling, but she wasn't sure what to call it. It wasn't a bad one: it was something like satisfaction and safety. Maybe it was just that she and Nick had finally gotten here. After all, it had taken them four days to get to Diamond City, all the pieces they needed for the rad scrubbers safely tucked away in their bags.   
  
Four days of near constant assistance for settlements they got anywhere close to. Four days of Grace wondering in the back of her head when Nick would decide the partnership was a mistake. She waited for him to realize his time would be better spent anywhere else, with people who didn't need to be reminded to eat and sleep.   
  
He hadn't.   
  
In fact, if Grace didn't know better, she'd say he had enjoyed the whole wild goose chase.   
  
"This won't take long," Nick said as they passed through the gates, "just need to check in with Ellie."   
  
Grace nodded. With everything Nick had done for her, she didn't mind making the stop. She wondered if they would have time to stop at Takahashi's for a bowl of noodles.   
  
"And she'll want to hear the news," Nick said as he pushed the agency door open. Grace suppressed a grimace. She'd been half dreading the topic, but she couldn't find a good reason for the anxiety.   
  
"Hey you two," Ellie said, looking up from an open file on her desk, "what's got you back in town so soon?"  
  
"Just passing by, wanted to see if anything new came across the desk," Nick said and then gestured to Grace, "Gotta train the new blood somehow."  
  
Ellie's face split into the biggest smile Grace had ever seen. Nick must have really needed a hand if Ellie was this happy about him getting a partner.   
  
"So you finally agreed?" Ellie asked, looking at Grace.   
  
"I put up a good fight but you've met Nick," Grace said, unable to stop herself from looking at her partner. She still wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to stick around, but suddenly that didn't seem so important. She decided she wasn't going to continue to look that particular gift-horse in the mouth. He wanted to help her, and she was happy to let him.  
  
"Who could say no to this face?" Nick said with a self-depreciating smile and then looked at his own desk. Grace followed his gaze and saw a pile of folders. "Goodness, been busy?" he asked.   
  
"Mostly just follow-ups, invoices, stuff that needs you to sign it," Ellie replied and then looked at Grace. "Nothing much for you, so why don't you and I get some lunch?"  
  
"Oh, I don't- I mean, shouldn't I be learning?" Grace stumbled over her own words. She looked at Nick and hoped he'd have something for her to do.   
  
"Take a break, Grace," Nick said, "Ellie's right, there's not much for you to do right now."  
  
Ellie came around her desk and unceremoniously looped her arm with Grace's. Grace hoped her smile wasn't too awkward, and fought the urge to run back to Sanctuary.

 

* * *

  
Ellie Perkins was relentless. Grace couldn't tell if that was from working in a detective agency or being involved with a reporter, but it was terrifying.   
  
They hadn't even sat down in front of Takahashi before Ellie peppered her with questions.   
  
"So what changed your mind? Have you gotten to the Glowing Sea yet? What's Sanctuary like? Is that where you live? How's-" Ellie asked in rapid fire. Grace put her hands up to shield herself from the barrage of questions.   
  
"One thing at a time, Ellie," Grace said, unable to stop her nervous laugh. "Good lord, are you sure you don't want to be out in the field with Nick?"  
  
"What and leave you all the paperwork?" Ellie asked, and rolled her eyes. "Something tells me that wouldn't suit you."  
  
Grace shrugged and asked Takahashi for two orders of noodles. From what she understood, the robot didn't really speak English, but that didn't stop him from setting down two bowls in front of them a few seconds later.   
  
"So what did change your mind?" Ellie asked as she blew over the hot bowl. Grace thought for a few seconds.   
  
"I'm not sure," Grace decided and looked down at her own noodles. "Nick is, uh, helpful."  
  
Ellie let out a giggle and Grace looked at her.   
  
"What?" Grace asked. Nick _was_ helpful. A hell of a lot more than most other people she'd met.  
  
"Nick's been called a lot of things, but rarely so, uh, subtly," Ellie said.   
  
Grace frowned and said, "I'm not trying to be subtle." This was going poorly already. Grace sighed and looked down at her bowl. She'd have to explain herself to Ellie just like she had with Nick. Hopefully Ellie would be as understanding.   
  
"Look, Ellie," she said, "I'm not great with uh, words, but-"  
  
"Did you tell Nick that?" Ellie asked, interrupting Grace's thought.   
  
"I don't think I needed to," Grace said, unable to keep the sarcastic edge out of her voice, "but yeah, I did. I told him I was bad at being around people." She poked her noodles listlessly.   
  
"And?" Ellie prompted her.  
  
"He didn't seem to mind," Grace shrugged and looked over at the woman. Ellie was smiling again. "What?" Grace asked again.   
  
"You're honest," she said, as if it answered Grace's question.   
  
"Okay?" Grace asked, not sure what being honest had to do with anything.   
  
"Nick is big on honesty," Ellie said, "he's not exactly an open book, but he'll tell you the truth."  
  
"I wasn't trying to be anything, I just didn't want him to sign on with me without knowing what he was getting into," Grace said, more to her bowl than Ellie.   
  
"Well, I'm glad you two are working together," Ellie said and lightly nudged Grace's arm with her own. Grace looked at her arm.  
  
"Everyone is very, uh, physical, now," Grace said.  
  
"Not before?" Ellie asked, a tinge of sadness in her voice.   
  
"I mean, some people were, but on the whole, no," Grace said. "One of the first people I met here tried to hug me."  
  
"You didn't let them?" Ellie asked.   
  
Grace shrugged again, "Well I had just killed a deathclaw, so I guess he was just happy? But no, I didn't let him."  
  
"You what?" Ellie sounded both delighted and horrified.   
  
"I was in power armor," Grace said quickly. She didn't want to mislead Ellie into thinking she'd wrestled the thing.  
  
"You have to tell me this story," Ellie said.   
  
By the time Grace was done recounting the skirmish in Concord, both of their bowls were empty and Ellie's eyes were wide as saucers.   
  
"And you'd only been out of the vault for- goodness, Grace!" Ellie laughed. "If anyone else told me this story, I wouldn't believe it, but, wow."  
  
"You're welcome to come to Sanctuary and ask for yourself," Grace said.   
  
"I'll leave that sort of thing to Piper," Ellie said with a fond smile.   
  
"Preston'd try to recruit her too," Grace said and then looked down at her Pip-Boy. It was getting late. "We're going to have to get back soon, I expect Preston will have a message waiting for me."  
  
"So you're still helping the Minutemen?" Ellie asked.   
  
"Uh, sort of," Grace said. "Preston made me uh, General?"  
  
Ellie looked at her.   
  
"Yeah, I know, I'm not exactly-" Grace started, but Ellie interrupted her.  
  
"And you agreed to work with Nick anyway?" she asked.  
  
Grace couldn't figure out her tone. Did Ellie think she wouldn't take her work with Nick as seriously?  
  
 _Answer questions you understand_ , Justine's voice advised quietly.   
  
"What do you mean?" Grace asked.   
  
"Well, being the General of the Minutemen is a big deal," Ellie said. "And you're looking for your son, and now you're working with Nick. When do you, you know, sleep?"  
  
Grace huffed a laugh and said, "Well I've slept a lot more since he's been with me. The man's a nuisance."  
  
"Who's a nuisance?" Nick's voice came from behind them. Grace turned in her seat to see him approach.   
  
"P.I., has an office in Diamond City, insists his partner eats and sleeps constantly," Grace said.   
  
"Yeah, sounds like a real menace to society," Nick said, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "How's lunch?"  
  
"Good," Grace said as she stood. She handed caps to Takahashi and shouldered her bag. "How's paperwork?"  
  
Nick grimaced and said, "Done with now."  
  
Ellie stood from her stool and gave Nick a one-armed hug, "I'm headed back, you don't let the General wear herself out."  
  
"What, am I the only sap who had to cross the Commonwealth to find that out?" Nick asked in a good-natured tone over Ellie's head.   
  
"Wasn't a secret," Grace shrugged.   
  
"You two are too much," Ellie laughed and waved her goodbye to Grace. Grace waved back and wondered what she meant by that.  
  
"Ready to go?" Grace asked.  
  
"Lead the way," Nick replied and gestured towards the city gates.  
  
It was odd, how good Grace felt. There wasn't a solid reason for it, as far as she could tell; it wasn't like she'd found Shaun or even the Institute yet. But she felt better, lighter, somehow. She snuck a glance at Nick from the corner of her eyes.   
  
Grace chewed her lip and thought as they left Diamond City. That feeling in her guts was back.   
  
If she wasn't careful, she'd be in very real danger of having friends.    
  


* * *

  
The sun peeked over the horizon behind them as Grace and Nick neared Sanctuary. Dogmeat trotted across the bridge to meet them.  
  
"Hey bud," Grace said quietly as she crouched to give him a pat on the head. He nuzzled her hand and then looked at Nick expectantly.   
  
"Heya," Nick said, and gave the dog a scratch on the head.   
  
"You on guard duty, boy?" Grace asked as she stood. Dogmeat barked happily and led them into Sanctuary.   
  
Sturges was already in the workshop when they got there.   
  
"Hey General, hey Nick," he said as he pulled his welding goggles up to rest on his forehead.   
  
"We brought presents," Grace said. "Has Preston sent word?"  
  
"Yeah, runner left you a note and headed back to the Castle," Sturges said, "Cods has it."  
  
Grace nodded and then gestured to her bag.  
  
"I take it we can get to building rad scrubbers?" Sturges asked.  
  
"We can indeed," Grace said with a smile and looked around. "Where can I start putting things?"  
  
"I'll take it," Nick said, taking the bag from Grace. "You need to get some sleep."  
  
Grace sighed, "All right, but only a few hours."  
  
"I'll send Codsworth in with some flowers," Nick said dryly. Grace shook her head and made her way to the tower, the mental image of Codsworth delicately throwing flowers to wake her gave her a good laugh.  
  
In the third floor of the tower, Grace kicked off her boots, removed her Pip-Boy, and got into her bedroll. She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come.  
  


* * *

  
Grace didn't know how long she slept, but her eyes opened and she sat up straight. Her pulse was racing. She struggled to put context to her reaction. Had she had a nightmare?  
  
It was then she registered the screaming.   
  
She was up like a shot, gun in hand. She raced down the stairs and out of the front door towards the sound. When she neared the workshop, she slowed.  
  
Marcy Long was screaming at Sturges.  
  
"I kept my mouth shut about the Ghoul," Marcy yelled, "but this is too much! The Institute knows we're here!"  
  
Grace holstered her gun as she approached.   
  
"What's going on here?" Grace asked.  
  
"A synth! A fucking synth!" Marcy screeched, voice broken by panic. Grace held her hand up to Marcy and looked around. Nick was standing behind Sturges, who had apparently stepped between the two.   
  
"Marcy," Grace said in an even tone, "I'm standing right here, you don't have to yell. Sturges, tell me what happened."  
  
"Marcy here saw Nick and decided Sanctuary is on the Institute's hit list," Sturges said. He looked uncharacteristically stern. Grace looked at Marcy.  
  
"Nick is here on my invitation," Grace said, keeping her voice as low and steady as she could, "if you have a problem with him, you bring it to me."   
  
"That thing is going to get us all killed," Marcy said, glaring at Nick.  
  
 _Burden of proof is on the accuser_ , Justine reminded her. Grace could almost smell her perfume on the air.  
  
"Marcy," she said, "do you have any evidence?"  
  
The woman blinked at her, "What do you mean?" she hissed.   
  
"Any evidence at all that Nick being here will get us all killed?" Grace said. Maybe if she could get Marcy to see reason, she'd calm down.   
  
"It's a synth!" Marcy said, as if that was all the evidence needed.   
  
" _Nick_ is a synth, yes," Grace said, "has he tried to kill you?"  
  
"Not yet," Marcy said darkly.  
  
Grace looked at Nick and he looked attentively back. "Nick, are you planning on killing Marcy?"  
  
"No," he said simply.   
  
Grace nodded and looked back at Marcy, "I trust Nick, and I believe he's telling the truth." She forced herself into an open stance, showing her palms to the smaller woman. If she could look nonthreatening, maybe Marcy would calm down. Grace smoothed her voice as much as she could and continued, "Living with and around other people requires a level of implicit trust. If you don't think you can do that, then I suggest you move on."  
  
"A-are you kicking me out?" Marcy asked quietly.  
  
"No, I'm asking you to consider if you want to stay here," Grace said, "Because Nick is my partner and I'm sure as hell not asking him to leave."  
  
"I don't want to leave," Marcy said. Her voice was stronger, but she still sounded shaken.    
  
"Then don't. But don't accuse anyone of anything without evidence either," Grace said, and then tried to soften her voice. "There's enough people to be afraid of in the Commonwealth, but Nick isn't one of them."   
  
Marcy didn't acknowledge Grace's words, but she turned and stiffly made her way toward the bunkhouse. Grace watched her go and wondered if she really would stay.   
  
"I didn't think she'd go off like that," Sturges said.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Nick," Grace said, suddenly mortified.   
  
"Don't worry about it, I've heard worse," Nick said as he busied his hands with cigarettes and matches. "Though I can't say my honor's ever been so thoroughly, uh, defended." Nick looked up and gave her an appraising look. "Thought you weren't supposed to be good with people?" he said more to himself than her.  
  
Grace's face felt hot. Of course she wasn't good with people. There was a very real risk that she'd be losing two good farmhands from the settlement before the day was over. Anyone could see that where Marcy went, Jun followed.    
  
And then she blinked when the first half of his statement finally sank in. He'd heard worse than that? And no one said anything? Grace clenched her jaw.   
  
Well, that sure as shit wouldn't happen on her watch.   
  
Sturges snorted a laugh, "That's our General. Knight in shining armor to the Commonwealth." He gave her a wink as he made his way back to the workbench.  
  
"Laugh it up," Grace said, feeling foolish. Was this the kind of reputation she was building for herself? Some kind of idiot with a hero complex?  
  
"Commonwealth could use more of that," Nick said around his cigarette. He sounded earnest.   
  
"I'm, uh, gonna go find Codsworth," Grace said. Between the embarrassment and the altercation, she had a lot of nervous energy. She needed to do something.   
  
Grace wandered over to the cooking area and peeked inside of the mess hall. Codsworth was arranging flatware.  
  
"Hey Cods," she called as she entered the building. One of his eyes pointed in her direction.  
  
"Miss Grace- I say, where are your shoes?" he asked, affronted.   
  
Grace looked down at her bare feet. She hadn't thought to put on her boots. A fresh wave of embarrassment rolled over her.  
  
"Didn't have time to put them on," Grace said. "You didn't hear all that yelling?"  
  
"Mrs. Long has never been shy to give her opinions," Codsworth said in a long-suffering tone.   
  
"That she has not," Grace agreed. "I hear you have a message for me?"    
  
"I do indeed, ma'am. Here you are," he said and retrieved a slip of paper from one of his storage compartments.   
  
"Thanks Cods," Grace said as she took it.   
  
"I saw Detective Valentine earlier, ma'am," Codsworth said. "Are you and he staying for dinner?"   
  
Grace lifted her arm to check her Pip-Boy and realized she'd left that with her boots.   
  
"What time is it?" Grace asked.  
  
"Just past noon, ma'am," Codsworth said.   
  
Grace hummed, "I'm not sure yet, we have some work to do on the power armor."  
  
"As you say, ma'am," Codsworth said and Grace left the mess hall.   
  
She made her way back to the tower to get her shoes and Pip-Boy before she returned to the workshop. She didn't want to leave Nick alone with Marcy possibly still on the prowl. Grace didn't think Marcy would do anything stupid, but she wasn't willing to bet anyone's safety on it.   
  
She found Nick sitting in one of the chairs close to the power armor station. She took the chair next to his, dug into her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes. Nick held out a pack of matches.   
  
"Thanks," she said as she took them and lit her cigarette. She opened the note and started reading.   
  
The note itself was short: Castle infested with mirelurks, no other observed inhabitants. Structure seems sound. Surrounding area no more dangerous than rest of Commonwealth. Will hold position until G arrives.   
  
Grace handed the note to Nick. He read it quickly and handed it back to her.   
  
"Sounds promising," he said.   
  
Grace nodded, "It does." She looked at Sturges, still busy at the workbench. "Have you two started on the rad scrubbers without me?" she asked.  
  
"Sturges didn't seem to think that was a good idea," Nick said as he tapped his cigarette.   
  
"I like to know how my equipment works," Grace said, "in case I need to repair it."  
  
Nick nodded and said, "Not enough people value that kind of knowledge,"   
  
Grace shrugged. She wanted to be able to repair anything she used. She had already gotten pretty good at modifying her guns. Power armor seemed like a logical next step, especially if she would be using it a lot.   
  
Sturges turned from the workbench and looked at them. He wiped his hands on a dirty rag and said, "Ready to get started on this?"  
  
Grace stood and tossed her cigarette butt to the rocky ground.   
  
"Let's get to it," she said.   
  


* * *

  
The rad scrubbers took a few hours to get together. Grace felt like she was back in school, stripping wires, soldering circuit boards, and testing connections. She always felt meditative when she worked with her hands. It was relaxing.  
  
"That's looking real nice," Sturges said from her shoulder.   
  
"Not as fast as you are," Grace said, eying Sturges's finished pair of rad scrubbers.   
  
"Not yet," Sturges said, "'course, you're learning how they go together on the fly."  
  
Grace hummed and held up her second completed rad scrubber.   
  
"Now's the fun part," Sturges said as he took it from her. "Let's see if they work."  
  
Grace made her way to the power armor and pushed aside connecting wires in the open ports. The rad scrubbers fit in well. After they were all plugged in and connected she looked at the armor.   
  
"Well, let's see how this goes," Grace said to herself. She stepped behind the power armor station and opened it up. She climbed in and felt the armor close around her. It wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling, being encased head to toe, but she could deal with it.   
  
"Don't let all that horsepower go to your head," Nick said with a chuckle from her elbow. He looked like he was enjoying this more than she was.   
  
Grace rolled her eyes and searched the heads up display in her armor for the rad scrubbers.   
  
"Looks like they're all operational," Grace said. Her voice sounded tinny to her own ears. She wrinkled her nose at the sound.  
  
Sturges nodded, "Then you're good to go, General. Why not take a few minutes, make sure the connections are solid?"  
  
Grace walked to the end of the carport and back to the power armor station. She felt ridiculous, plodding like a brahmin, but it would keep her skin on in the Glowing Sea. It was necessary, if uncomfortable.  
  
"Seems solid to me," Grace said.   
  
"Oh my," came Codsworth's voice from the end of the carport, "tally-ho! And also, dinner is prepared."  
  
Grace suppressed a smile and exited the power armor. She really did miss Codsworth when she was away.   
  
"I'd better take it out here," Grace said. Marcy would probably need a lot of space after this afternoon's altercation.   
  
As Codsworth zipped off to fetch Grace's dinner with Sturges close behind, she and Nick reclaimed the chairs near the power armor and looked at the map on her Pip-Boy to plan out their route.  
  
"If we leave tonight," Grace said, "we can make it late tomorrow night."  
  
"What, does that thing have autopilot?" Nick asked, nodding toward the power armor. Grace gave him an unimpressed look.  
  
"You'll be dead on your feet by the time we get there if you don't get some more sleep. You're gonna be pushing it as is," Nick continued. Grace rolled her shoulders and avoided looking at him. He was right. She looked over at him and crossed her ankles in front of her.  
  
"Nuisance," she said without venom.  
  
"Menace to society," Nick corrected her. He looked like he didn't mind the title.  
  
"Keep that up, I'll start thinking we're friends," Grace threatened. She took a deep breath and looked towards the street.   
  
Smooth, Grace.   
  
"I know some people in the paper business," Nick said conspiratorially, "we can get announcements in the next edition."  
  
Grace let out a surprised bark of laughter.   
  
"I'm not that old-fashioned," Grace said and tried to ignore the relief she felt.   
  
Nick was her friend.   
  
It was a silly thing- juvenile, even. Another part of her mind made the argument that the Commonwealth had enough in its bad column to justify the celebration of something even as mundane as a friend. Grace was torn on the matter.   
  
Codsworth's voice interrupted her internal debate.   
  
"Here you are, Miss Grace," he said as he entered the carport. Behind him was Gordon Monroe, the Vault-Tec representative.   
  
"Hey Gordon," Grace said and congratulated herself on managing to remember his name. He looked thrilled that she had.   
  
"Mind if I join you?" Gordon asked and looked from Grace to Nick.   
  
Grace gestured to an empty chair as she took her own plate from Codsworth. "Thanks, Cods," she said quietly as Gordon pulled his chair up to form a small circle with Grace and Nick.   
  
As Grace ate and Nick smoked, Gordon told them how nice it was to be back in the neighborhood. Grace privately agreed. Finally, after so many months, Sanctuary was starting to feel like a home again.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sticking with me thus far. I'm looking forward to getting the next chapter out soon!


	9. Raise A Little Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Nick help the Minutemen take the Castle. [Preston loved that]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All errors are mine, and hopefully aren't too distracting. This whole chapter kinda feels like it got away from me, so I may very well come back and do some editing on it later, but for now I just want to get it out of my head.
> 
> Raise A Little Hell is by Trooper and can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5aRxOtNZTc as well as on Spotify!

Grace and Nick made good time on the trip from Sanctuary to the Castle. She had been more than a little nervous about the idea of actively playing the part of General. She wasn't sure if he could tell she was anxious, but Nick seemed to be making more of an effort to talk with her as they traveled. She wondered what her tells were, but decided to save that question when he started in on a fairly interesting history lesson.

"When the Minutemen lost the Castle, the Commonwealth knew they were done," he said as they walked.

"Think taking it back will make a difference?" Grace asked. "I mean, the radio will help, but will it- will it, you know, _help_?" She hoped the helmet of the power armor didn't make her question even more opaque.

Nick looked up at her as they walked and tilted his head in consideration.

"I think," he said slowly, "that with you at the helm, this could be a big damn deal."

Grace blinked and concentrated on the operation of the power armor. She still wasn't entirely sure what made her any different from Preston or any of the others, but Nick had been around the Commonwealth for longer than she had. If he thought this would work, she'd be a fool to ignore his opinion.

She nodded, and the knot in her stomach seemed to loosen. The Castle appeared over the horizon, and Grace felt a small jolt of adrenaline.

"Let's be a big damn deal then," she said and hoped she sounded as certain as she felt. This wouldn't fix everything, but it was a start.

Nick chuckled and adjusted his hat.

* * *

 

The look on Preston's face when he saw Grace and Nick approach the Castle almost made wearing the power armor worth it.

"General," he said stiffly and nodded to Nick. He looked tense.

"Hey Preston. Nice digs," she said, and hoped her attempt at sounding steady would somehow transfer to him.

To her surprise, it seemed to work.

"Be nicer once it belongs to the Minutemen again" Preston said with an easy smile, and gestured toward a ruined diner behind him. "We're talking tactics."

Grace climbed out of the power armor and followed him into the diner, Nick on her heels. A handful of Minutemen were already there, looking at a crudely drawn map of the Castle's grounds.

A chorus of greetings met them as they entered. Grace nodded to them and then motioned for Preston to continue with the discussion.

"We're down to three options," he said, "we can attack head on, we can try to draw them out, or we can split the forces and attack from both sides."

Grace thought for a few moments and then looked at Preston, "Set up a firing line. I'll draw them out." She hadn't walked the power armor all the way here to shoot from a distance, even if that was her preference.

Preston nodded, "Sounds good to me. Anyone have questions?" He looked at each of them and nodded when no one spoke up. He looked back at Grace. "Do you need to rest up, or are you good to go?"

"I'm fine," Grace said. She'd sleep when this was done. Nick, thankfully, didn't offer an objection.

Preston nodded again and said, "We'll wait on you. Just," he looked at the map, "don't get yourself trapped in there, General."

Grace nodded, unsure of how to respond to that. Preston sounded as tense as he'd looked when she and Nick had gotten there. She left the diner and made her way back to her power armor.

"Now don't think you're going in there without me," Nick said conversationally as she opened the armor. Her hands stilled and she looked at him. He was casually inspecting his gun.

Grace considered pointing out that she had power armor while he did not, but then changed her mind. If he wanted to walk into the lion's den with her, there was nothing she could say to change his mind.

And, really, she'd like to have him at her side.

Instead of saying anything, she just gave him a crooked smile and climbed into the armor.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Let's get this show on the road," he said.

Grace hoisted her rifle and made her way to the line of Minutemen. They seemed as ready as they could be. She started toward the Castle and reached to the line of grenades clipped at her waist. Nick followed her motion and readied a grenade of his own. They reached the doorway and looked in.

There were a lot of mirelurks. Most of them were half-buried in the soft earth of the courtyard. Around them were nests, most loaded with eggs.

Grace counted the nests and then decided on a plan of action. If she could encourage the mirelurks to funnel towards her, they should be fairly easy to pick off. Grace flicked her eyes to see Nick's grenade in his hand. He probably had better aim than she did.

"Think you can toss yours all the way to the back wall?" Grace asked quietly.

Nick scoffed and pulled the pin. His grenade landed exactly where she had wanted it. Quickly, she tossed hers as well and tried to stifle an adrenaline-fueled laugh as they both ducked flying debris from the grenades. Mirelurks started pouring towards them, alerted to the trespassers.

"See if you can cook those eggs," she said as she aimed at an algae-encrusted mirelurk. She'd dealt with the hatchlings before, and while they weren't strong, they could do damage in numbers.

Nick didn't seem to mind the idea. A few more expertly placed grenades took care of the nests.

"Nice arm," Grace yelled appreciatively over her own gunfire.

"Too bad about baseball, I'd be a shoo-in," Nick yelled back as he reloaded his pistol.

A bullet whizzed past her right side, between her and Nick. Grace glanced behind and saw that the firing line of Minutemen had moved much closer to the action.

"We were getting jealous, General," one of them called to her as he aimed at a charging mirelurk. It fell a few feet away from him, dead.

Grace huffed a laugh. Of everything she'd expected, she hadn't thought the others would be bored.

The fight looked simple, until it didn't. Grace was in the center of the courtyard when she heard someone yell from somewhere to her right.

"General! Preston! Uh- you're gonna want to see this!"

A sound she could feel in the soles of her feet rumbled up. Grace looked around, and her eyes landed on- well, she wasn't sure what.

A huge shape was moving towards the Castle. In a small corner of Grace's mind, the phrase _sea monster_ echoed. Grace dismissed it for later and reloaded her rifle.

"Aw, hell!" Preston's voice was close to her, to her left. "General, are you seeing this thing? It's a queen!"

Nick was at her back, finishing off another, now seemingly small, mirelurk.

"Cover me," Grace called to him and started toward the queen.

She didn't hear a response, but she found she didn't need to. Nick's bullets rained around her, the other mirelurks no longer a concern for her as she fed bullet after bullet into the general area of the queen's head. The queen looked down at her and spewed some noxious and oily fluid.

"Get out of the way!" Grace yelled and Minutemen ducked. The fluid steamed as it hit rubble, and a wave of nauseating odor wrinkled her nose. The power armor's heads up display warned damage to both legs, but she ignored it. That was a problem for later.

Nick and Preston were suddenly both at her sides, firing into the queen. It let out a roar, and then a sputter. Finally, it crashed down onto the rocky beach.

Grace cautiously lowered her gun, "Think it's dead?" she asked.

"Only one way to find out," Preston said, and lobbed a grenade. It landed and rolled to the queen's left side. It went off but the queen didn't stir.

"I'd say that crab's cooked," Nick said. Grace nodded and looked around.

"Everyone alright?" she asked.

Preston looked around and a short woman took a step forward to report, "Medic's on Jones, he took a serious hit, but no one else is seriously injured."

"Thank you," Grace nodded and looked at Preston. "Let's see to that radio of yours."

* * *

 

Miraculously, the radio still worked. Even more, the generator stashed away in the corner of a storage room started up with minimal complaints.

Grace left her power armor along a wall and walked up to the ramparts of the Castle. The sounds of Radio Freedom starting its broadcast battled with the sound of the ocean. It was a cacophony, but a good one. Grace leaned on the railing that faced the courtyard and watched Nick lean against a wall. A lit cigarette hung from his mouth as he watched the Minutemen revive in front of his eyes. She wondered what he was thinking.

"Hey General," came Preston's voice from her side. She jumped and looked at him.

"Hey Preston," she said, "what's up?"

"I, uh, I just wanted to thank you," he said, "we couldn't have done this without you."

"I'm just happy to help, Preston," she said and waved away his thanks. He looked away and she tilted her head. He looked like he was working himself up for something. She fought the urge to ask what, and turned to look behind herself, out at the ocean. The sun was sinking below the horizon. It looked positively pre-war.

"General, I-" Preston started, and she looked at him. "We really did it," he said quietly and he leaned on the rail to look out over the courtyard to match her previous stance. "I've been watching the Minutemen fall to pieces for so long, I just- it's really something."

"The time is seven o'clock, all is quiet in the Commonwealth," announced the voice from the radio. Grace craned her neck to see the man sitting at the radio, but couldn't quite see his face. A lone violin started playing through the speakers, and though she couldn't place the name of the piece, Grace was unexpectedly glad to hear the instrument.

"You saved my life, you know," he said quietly.

"You took that queen down too," Grace said. Preston shook his head.

"No, I mean- you made me want to keep going, to keep living," he said.

Grace froze and hoped her expression was something like neutrality. She was afraid to ask where this was going, but Preston pressed onward.

"Uh, let me start over," he said, and pulled his gloves off. He toyed with the fingers while he spoke. "After Quincy, I- I'd failed everyone who'd ever relied on me. We had no hope of getting out of Concord alive," he looked over to Grace, not quite able to meet her eyes. "And that was okay with me. It was what I wanted. What I thought I deserved."

Grace's mouth was dry. Why was he telling her this? Had he hoped the queen would finish the job?

"Do you, uh, still feel that way?" Grace asked, unsure what she wanted the information for, but figured it was better to have it known than not. She'd never liked unknown variables to stay that way for long.

"No, no, not at all," Preston said. "That's what I wanted to talk about." He looked out to the courtyard and Grace watched him in anticipation. "My point in all of this is that you saved my life, not just here and not just from the raiders in Concord. You- you made me want to keep living again." He looked back down to the gloves in his hands and chuckled, "I guess it sounds pretty sappy, but it's true."

Grace agreed, it did sound sappy. Instead of saying so, she waited. Preston took a deep breath and kept talking.

"If you hadn't come along, or if you'd just killed the raiders and taken off, I don't know if I'd still be around. I think I would've found some way to, you know, end it," he said quietly. "Maybe not by shooting myself in the head or anything," he continued quickly, "but just by not caring about staying alive."

Grace looked down at her own hands. She still didn't understand why he felt the need to tell her this, or why he felt like her just being around was reason to live. A suspicion scratched at the back of her mind like a rodent in a wall, but she ignored it. The idea of Preston harboring feelings for her was absurd at best. She thought back to her accidental declaration of friendship with Nick and wondered if Preston was looking for the same kind of reassurance.

What would Nick say?

Grace cleared her throat and said, "Well, I'm glad you decided to stick around, Preston. The world needs more people like you." She looked at Preston next to her and gave him a small smile. He smiled and ran a hand across the back of his neck.

"Well now you're making me embarrassed," he said, and then sobered. "I hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable, telling you all that. I know you're not fond of feelings talk. I just felt like it needed to be said, you know?" Preston looked at her, even and serious, and said, "You mean a lot to me."

In a more ridiculous corner of Grace's mind, a rat was being pulled tail-first from a wall.

For what felt like the first time, she looked at Preston. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He was a genuinely good man. He helped others and worked hard. And he had an expression of hope on his face that she'd never seen before, lit by the dying sunset and maybe something else.

Preston Garvey was the kind of man that wore his heart on his sleeve, and she could suddenly see it, clear as day.

Dread clawed its way up her throat. She had to say something before he embarrassed both of them.

"General, I-" Preston started, and Grace's train of thought screeched to a halt. Of course. It was his infatuation with the idea of the General. She'd warned him about hero worship before.

"I uh," Grace cut him off as she fumbled over her thoughts and tried to make her mouth form words, "you're a good friend, Preston. I'm glad to know you."

It wasn't an untrue statement, but it rang hollow in her own ears as Preston's face fell just a little. Grace grimly congratulated herself. She'd well and truly taken the wind from his sails.

Preston rallied and smiled, sadder than before, and said, "It feels better finally getting to say it out loud. Thanks for listening." He pushed off of the railing and started a slow walk towards the stairs down into the courtyard. Grace turned her back to the courtyard and went to sit on the corner of the wall, closest to the sea.

A few minutes later, she heard approaching footsteps. Too heavy to be Preston, or any of the other Minutemen. Grace cocked her head in time to see Nick sit down next to her, their feet dangled above the rocky shore below.

"Suppose we know why no one else managed to reclaim the Castle before now," he said lightly and nodded toward the water, "but taking down mother mirelurk was a sight to behold."

Grace hummed an agreement, "It was, wasn't it?"

"Everything alright?" Nick asked. "Looked like some pretty serious business up here."

Grace sighed. Everyone at the Castle had probably been witness to her conversation with Preston. He hadn't exactly picked a secluded area to talk to her in.

"Preston, uh, had to get some feelings off of his chest," she said stiffly. "I assume he's better now."

"Hope you let the poor guy down easy," Nick muttered.

"God, did everyone know about this except me?" she asked, bewildered.

Nick looked at her as if he couldn't figure out what she'd said.

"What?" she asked.

"Detective," Nick reminded her dryly. "Though I don't think it was as subtle as all that."

Grace blinked as she took the information in. She felt her cheeks get warm and scrubbed a hand down her face.

"Christ," she grumbled, "well, it doesn't matter. I'm not interested and he wants _the General_ , whatever that means." It came out more bitter than she'd meant for it to sound.

Nick turned toward her and gave her an assessing look. It was uncomfortable, but she sat still. His yellow eyes were bright in the darkness of dusk.

"You're more General than you might think," Nick said. "No one else could have done this," he jerked his undamaged thumb to point behind them. Was he trying to make her feel better or just change the subject? Either way, she was happy to move on from the topic.

"Unlikely," Grace said in an attempt to sound reasonable, "eventually someone would have. I'm not special, Nick, I was just-" she gestured vaguely, "in the right place at the right time."

"You didn't have to be that person," he pointed out.

"I did, though, didn't I?" she asked herself aloud. Next to her, Nick quirked an interested eyebrow. Grace glanced at him and then back out to the water. She shook her head. All this introspection wasn't getting them any closer to the Glowing Sea. It didn't matter that she needed to be kept busy with tasks that had nothing to do with her. She'd been distracting herself from what should arguably be her focus.

"Camping here tonight?" she asked.

"I've heard worse ideas," Nick replied. He still looked like he'd caught the scent of an interesting puzzle. "I'm gonna ask you about that later, you know," he said.

Grace considered his warning. Strangely, she didn't mind.

"Just not tonight," she said, and he nodded, appeased for the moment.

She considered going to find her bedroll, but didn't really want to move. She felt tired.

Instead, she laid back and put her arms behind her head and looked up at the stars. The sound of the waves on the rocks below soothed her and the violin on Radio Freedom turned soft and sweet. 

Grace shut her eyes. All in all, taking the Castle had gone better than she'd thought it would. Now, she needed to find Virgil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm of the firm opinion that there are two companions that are infatuated with the sole survivor after completing their quests: Preston and Curie. Curie is a little more obvious about it, but Preston isn't much better. There are arguments that can be made for the other (romancable) companions, but that's neither here nor there for the purposes of this story. 
> 
> The hero worship line, in case you never came across it in the game, is: "Don't project your hero fantasies onto me, Preston. I'm not who you want me to be." Preston responds by saying "Okay, have it your way. I just wish you'd give yourself a little credit sometimes."
> 
> Bless his little heart, he just wants the sole survivor to see themselves like he sees them.
> 
> (also, I really thought the phrase was "shoe-in" but the English stack exchange assures me that I am incorrect, thus the spelling of shoo-in.)


	10. Maps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distress call from a settlement, a treasure hunt, and a lucky coincidence get Grace and Nick closer to the Glowing Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been forever since I've updated. I'm so sorry it took so long, but I promise, no matter how long it takes I will keep updating. This story is literally on my mind all the time. 
> 
> Still only edited by me and I'm still just doing my best to catch editing/grammar/spelling/general errors. 
> 
> Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIIxlgcuQRU as well as on Spotify!

She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the wall of the Castle, but somehow Grace had managed to do exactly that. She awoke to an announcement over the speakers from Radio Freedom.  
  
"Calling any available Minutemen: the people of Somerville Place have requested assistance. Any available Minutemen should respond as soon as possible."  
  
Grace cracked her eyes open and saw stars above her. A rock dug into her back and her arm was slightly numb from the uneven ground below her. She looked at Nick's back, and realized he'd been sitting next to her for however long she'd been asleep.  
  
"Didja catch that?" he asked.  
  
She sat up and rubbed her eyes and then looked at him. He looked over her face as she yawned.  
  
Grace nodded and pushed herself to her feet, "Let's see what they need."  
  
"One of these days you're gonna run out of steam, you know," Nick said as he followed her lead and stood.  
  
Grace shrugged in response. She'd slept, albeit accidentally. That counted in her book.  
  
At the radio tower, a few Minutemen were listening to short-wave radios and writing things down beneath bare light bulbs. Across the large table was a shabby map of the Commonwealth, patched in a few places, and being marked by a short woman with a laser rifle strapped to her back. The woman looked up as Grace and Nick approached.  
  
"Hey there, General," she said, "what can I do for you?"  
  
Grace motioned toward the map on the table and said, "Where's this settlement that asked for aid?"  
  
The short woman pointed at a location, and Grace assumed that if the darker ink was any indication, it was recently marked. The woman said, "Here. Somerville Place isn't close to a whole hell of a lot, besides radiation."  
  
"Oh?" Grace asked and pulled her Pip-Boy's map up. She marked the settlement's location as the woman explained.  
  
"Right by the Glowing Sea," the woman traced her finger across a dashed border on the map on the table. Grace's eyes followed it and then looked at the woman.  
  
"What's your name?" Grace asked. The woman looked up at her and beamed.  
  
"Rogers, ma'am. Cassidy Rogers," she said. Grace realized she was the same woman who had reported the injured Minuteman after they had taken down the queen.  
  
"You make this map, Rogers?" Grace asked.  
  
"Yes ma'am," Rogers said. "Every time we get coordinates from a new settlement or word from a caravan, I mark the map." Rogers's finger traced what Grace recognized as Carla's route from Sanctuary down to Diamond City and over to Goodneighbor and back.  
  
"You might be one of the only cartographers left in the world," Grace said quietly. She was impressed with what looked to be very exact work.  
  
"Just doing my job, ma'am," Rogers replied. Grace looked at her, and though her words were self-depreciating, Grace could see the pride of work well done on her face. Grace gave her a small smile.  
  
"It's good work, Rogers. Keep it up," Grace replied.  
  
"Damn fine work," Nick agreed from behind her. Rogers looked to Nick and Grace saw her smile falter. Grace wondered if any of the Minutemen held the same fears that Marcy Long did.  
  
Even though he'd come this far with her and helped the Minutemen take back the Castle. Hell, he'd insisted on going into battle with her.  
  
_Show people the truth and let them believe they've arrived at it themselves_ , Justine advised. If she showed Rogers that Nick was her friend, her equal, word would spread. Nick wouldn't be treated poorly and Grace wouldn't have to make any more embarrassing speeches.  
  
Grace took a deep breath and looked at Nick as he moved to stand beside her.    
  
"Let's go help the Commonwealth, partner," she said as lightly as she could and nudged his arm with her own like Ellie had done to her. What had seemed to be a normal gesture to Ellie felt stilted and unnatural to Grace. She suppressed a grimace.  
  
Nick's eyebrows rose a fraction but he quickly mastered them, gave her an exaggerated nudge back, and said, "Lead the way."  
  
Grace couldn't help her laugh, but quickly turned it into a polite cough. She looked back at Rogers, whose uncomfortable look had been replaced by a funny little smile. Grace figured that was worth her discomfort and thanked her for her help.  
  
As she and Nick made their way to Grace's power armor along the wall, Nick spoke up, "You gonna let Preston know we're heading out?"  
  
Grace looked down at the ground, and felt a bubble of guilt in her gut. She probably should, considering she wasn't guaranteed to come back from the Glowing Sea. She didn't want to, but she had a responsibility to Preston. She had a responsibility to the Minutemen. She sighed and looked at Nick.  
  
"You have to be right all the time?" she asked him in feigned annoyance. His glowing eyes crinkled at the corners with a good-natured smile.  
  
"Call it life experience," he said.  
  
They changed course and found Preston inside, in a conversation with a Minuteman emblazoned with a bold cross on his chest. Grace wondered how the universal symbol for the medic had survived for centuries.  
  
"General," the medic said as she and Nick approached. Preston turned to look at her and in the dim light of the bare lamp bulbs, she could see his dark skin looked flushed.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt," Grace said, and before she could continue, Preston spoke.  
  
"Jones is going to make a full recovery, General. He's asleep now but should be fully healed in a few days," he reported. He sounded clipped, more militaristic than Grace had ever heard him.  
  
"Thank you for the update, I'm glad he'll be alright," Grace said and nodded to the medic, "but I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes, Preston."  
  
The medic excused himself and disappeared behind a mostly-white curtain. Preston looked at her, a soldier awaiting orders.  
  
"What can I do for you, General?" he asked.  
  
"Nick and I are going to go to Somerville Place- find out what they need," Grace said and then nodded down the hallway towards a more secluded room. Preston and Nick fell in behind her and they filed into what looked like it had been an office. Grace shut the door behind them.  
  
"I take it that's not all you're doing?" Preston asked once the door was shut and Grace had turned to face the two. He sounded resigned.  
  
"No, and I need you to stay here and act in my place while I'm, uh, away," Grace said. She knew Preston wouldn't let his personal feelings, bruised or not, get in the way of his duty.  
  
Preston's brow wrinkled and he looked from Grace to Nick and back, "This isn't just about Somerville Place, is it?" he asked.  
  
Grace didn't really enjoy telling Preston about her plan to go into the Glowing Sea. He seemed to enjoy learning about it even less.  
  
"Why not take a small detachment with you? It'll be safer to have a few Minutemen at your back," Preston asked. Grace shook her head.  
  
"I'm not willing to risk Minutemen on a personal matter," she said. The numbers were limited as it was.  
  
"Not to mention it'd look fishy," said Nick from his position on the ratty sofa. He'd lit a cigarette and tapped it gently before he continued, "If the Institute is on this guy's tail, the last thing the Minutemen need is to be in competition with them."  
  
Preston ran a hand across his eyes and then looked at Grace.  
  
"If I don't hear from you in a week, I'm heading a rescue mission myself," he said. Grace felt her temper flare, but tamped it down. He was trying to reassure himself, not ignore good sense.  
  
"Make it two weeks," Grace said. Preston nodded and Nick stood and walked to the door with her. She turned to open it, but Preston spoke.  
  
"Please be careful, General," he said. Grace opened the door and looked back at him. She gave him as good a smile as she could.  
  
"Always am, Preston."

 

* * *

  
  
Morning had turned to afternoon when the ruins of a highway rose on the horizon. Grace felt hot and slow in the power armor, and nodded toward the shade cast by the highway.  
  
"Think that's a good place for a break?" she asked and looked at Nick. He frowned and grunted in the negative.  
  
"We're coming up on Jamaica Plain," the motioned towards he town beyond the overpass, "Lots of raiders end up here, looking for that lost treasure. Best we stay sharp."  
  
Grace looked out at the ruined town and asked, "Lost treasure?"  
  
"Don't know much about it myself," he said, "just that it draws a lot of attention from rough types."  
  
Grace pulled the map from her Pip-Boy up on the heads-up-display on the power armor. She was still impressed the two pieces of tech were able to interface so well. She looked at the town of Jamaica Plain.  
  
"Treasure isn't exactly useful these days," Grace said after a few minutes of silent walking, "why would people go after it? I mean, even if it's gold or something, water and food are more valuable."  
  
"You'd think so," Nick said, "but greed's always a factor." Grace hummed her understanding and they carried on towards the edge of the town. As they got closer, Nick gestured to a half-ruined billboard. It proclaimed the treasures of Jamaica Plain would be viewable for only a week.  
  
The week the bombs had dropped, of course. Grace shook her head at the advertisement and pulled the map up again.  
  
"Looks like it'll be a little faster to go around to the south," Grace said. Nick nodded and they adjusted course following the edge of the town.  
  
"Seem a little too quiet to you out here?" Nick said as he looked around. Grace agreed. She'd expected raiders or other treasure hunters.  
  
"Hang on," Grace said and she crouched and took out her sniper rifle. A large thoroughfare through the center of the town had the debris she'd become accustomed to but also had what looked like barricades. She lifted the scope to her eye and saw movement.  
  
Quietly she handed the gun to Nick and gestured for him to look where she had. A few seconds later he dropped the gun and looked at her.  
  
"Ferals," he said, sounding disgusted. He handed her gun back.  
  
"Ferals," she agreed and looked around. There was a church that would give her a good view of the town if she could get on its roof. She got as low as she could and started slowly making her way towards the church.  
  
"What's the plan?" Nick asked quietly as they made their way down back alleys.  
  
"Get on the church roof, take 'em out," Grace said. From what she'd seen, the ferals would be drawn to noise, so they would come to her. Nick nodded and followed her. She moved as quietly as she could from the side of a building to the church and put her hand on the door pulls.  
  
The church doors were chained from the inside.  
  
Grace ducked behind the shell of a ruined car. The sound of the chains rattling against the old wooden doors had been loud- very loud. Nick motioned from the side of the building to an open door in a small brick house next to the church. Grace got low and met him in the doorway of the house.  
  
"Roof's got a hole," he said quietly and pointed directly up. Grace immediately understood his plan. She nodded and began clearing rooms in the house.  
  
The house was blessedly free of ferals, and the top floor was even more suitable to Nick's plan than Grace could have hoped. The collapsed roof created a ramp to the exterior and there was a space of only a few feet between the church and the house on which they stood.  
  
The only question now was whether she could make the jump in power armor without going through the church's roof. It already had one big hole in it, and she wasn't willing to bet exposure to the elements had made it more structurally sound. She decided the lighter she was, the better. Quickly and as quietly as she could, she stepped out of the power armor and backed up a few feet to get a running start.  
  
"You sure that's-" Nick started to ask, but she was already in motion.  
  
Her feet found the ledge of the roof and she jumped, and landed a second later on the church's roof. It was much more solid than she'd expected. She crouched down on the roof and looked behind her. Nick gave her a flat look. He jumped across a few seconds later and pulled out his gun.  
  
"Didn't think synths could have heart attacks," he grumbled under his breath.  
  
Grace looked back at him with concern.  
  
"You afraid of heights?" she asked, "I can stay up here and snipe if you want to take the stairs into the church," she offered. She gestured behind herself to the single church spire and the roof access stairs. The windows would be easy to shoot from, and he'd be off of the roof.  
  
Nick looked at her and then down at the gun in his hands, his eyes shielded by his hat.  
  
"Just give me a heads up the next time you decide to jump off a building, alright?" he finally said and took aim at a feral that mindlessly wandered below them in the street.  
  
As Nick fired off his first shot, Grace realized she'd misunderstood his plan. He'd meant for them to shoot from the roof of the house. She pressed down her annoyance at herself and tossed a grenade into the center of a group of feral ghouls. 

 

* * *

  
  
It took them the better part of an hour to do away with the ferals that poured from almost every structure in the town. Once they felt fairly certain they'd taken care of any stragglers, Grace and Nick went into the spire of the church. In the upper level, Grace found a few lockboxes with ammunition and a first aid kit with extra stimpacks to put into her bag. Purely for her own amusement, she used her newly fashioned lock picks to open the boxes and reveled in the quickness they opened. It was nice to have some proper tools in her hands again.  
  
Done with her self-indulgent lock picking, she stood and looked around for Nick, but didn't see him.  
  
She went onto the catwalk on the second floor and was surprised to see Nick downstairs, seated in one of the ruined pews. His hands were folded, metal over synthetic skin, and his head was bowed. Quiet but indecipherable syllables formed a cadence that seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't place it. Grace watched him for a few seconds before she quietly made her way down to the main floor.  
  
As she approached, Nick looked up and something like bashfulness went quickly across Nick's face.  
  
Grace wanted to ask what he prayed for. She almost did, but stopped herself. It wasn't her business.  
  
"Didn't mean to interrupt," she said instead, her voice low. It seemed wrong to speak at a normal level, even though there was no one to disturb.  
  
Nick shrugged, "Habit from my namesake," he said. "Go into a church, say a Hail Mary." She nodded, now able to hear the words in her head. He fixed her with a look of interest and stood, "What about you?"  
  
Grace smiled sadly and shook her head, "Never took to it. Not for my mother's lack of trying," she said.  
  
"Religious family?" Nick asked as they walked slowly down what was left of the center aisle and toward the chained doors.  
  
"Catholic," Grace said, "private school and everything." She caught sight of a body in the corner and pointed. The dead man looked like he hadn't been there long.  
  
"I- or, uh, the other Nick was too," Nick said as he looked at the body. He seemed to reconsider and then said, "Well, on Christmas and Easter, anyway."

  
Grace wondered how many people in the Commonwealth even remembered the words to Hail Mary. She decided it wasn't important.  
  
"Looks like our friend here could have used some divine intervention himself," Grace said. "He doesn't look like a raider."  
  
Nick shook his head, "If I were the betting type, I'd say he's a treasure hunter." He crouched down and pulled a duffel bag from under the dead man's arm. He rummaged in it for a few seconds and handed a piece of paper to Grace.  
  
"Treasures of Jamaica Plains," Grace read aloud to herself. She didn't remember this from so long ago. She and Nate always had very full social schedules that were given to them. They had never had much time to do things together that wasn't also an appearance on behalf of the military.  
  
"Some kind of attraction?" she asked and willed herself to concentrate. She couldn't waste time feeling bad for herself or the life she didn't get to lead before the bombs.    
  
Nick was holding another scrap of paper, "Dunno, but looks like this guy had details about the security system." He handed the scrap to Grace. The man had planned to turn the security off just long enough for others to get in, and then turn it back on again.  
  
She looked at Nick and said, "If this guy managed to do this, there might be people still, uh, wherever the treasure is supposed to be."  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "He looks pretty fresh, so if they survived, we might make it to them in time."  
  
Grace looked down at the flier Nick had handed her. "Well," she said slowly, "if you were going to hide treasure, where would you put it?"  
  
Nick patted his coat and found his cigarettes and matches. He silently offered them to Grace, who took them with a nod of thanks, and then lit his own. Grace watched him as he stood. Smoke curled around his hat and out of the holes in the sides of his face.  
  
"Seems to me that these treasures are a PR stunt," he said. "That would explain the advertising. And they're the treasures of Jamaica Plain, the town, not of anyone in the town."  
  
"So a government building?" Grace asked. She gestured to the dead man's note, "Our friend here thought the security was government grade, so it would make sense to be in a public building rather than a private one."  
  
Nick nodded and tilted his lips into a slight smile, "You'd make a good detective," he said.  
  
"So I've heard," Grace said dryly. "Well, let's see if we can find some treasure."

 

* * *

  
  
Nick insisted Grace get the power armor from the roof of the brick building. As she stood on the roof of the house, she used the vantage point to scout what she could see of the town. A conspicuous building with most of a large statue in front of it was only a few blocks away. She gestured to the building and briefly considered just jumping down from the roof before she caught sight of Nick's face on the street below.  
  
"What?" she called.  
  
"Use the damn stairs," he called back, sounding irritated.  
  
"Killjoy," Grace muttered to herself, but turned and went into the house. He obviously had some kind of fear of heights or falling or something. She figured since it wasn't a life or death situation, she could be bothered to get off the roof like he asked.  
  
The building with the statue in front turned out to be the Jamaica Plain City Hall, or what was left of it. It looked like half of the roof had been taken off and then the other half had rotted away over the centuries.  
  
After a thought, Grace parked her power armor next to the entrance. There was no telling how well the floors would hold up against the weight of it.  
  
She and Nick found the body of another treasure hunter with a few passwords on her, surrounded by feral bodies. Apparently this was the leader of a group of treasure hunters that had started to fall apart before they'd even gotten to the treasure.  
  
"Couldn't wait to betray each other," Nick said as he looked over the dead woman's notes.  
  
"Which means there probably isn't anyone to rescue," Grace pointed out. Nick nodded, but then looked back down at the dead treasure hunter.  
  
"Still," he said slowly, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little interested in closing this case."  
  
Grace snorted, but nodded, "We should make sure there's no one who needs help," she said. "Just in case." She didn't need to justify finishing a literal treasure hunt, but she was curious, and by the look on his face, so was Nick.  
  
Grace and Nick made their way through the ruins of the building and to the basement. They found themselves staring down a hallway of laser tripwires.  
  
"Good lord," Grace mumbled to herself as she left the hallway of lasers behind her and tried another doorway. She couldn't stop the humorless laugh that escaped her when she found the tunnel that went around the definitely high-grade security.  
  
"Locked the doors but left the windows wide open," Nick said as he followed her into an antechamber.  
  
"I don't think they made it this far," Grace said. She nodded towards a closed and heavily armored set of doors. A lone skeleton was propped against it, still wearing his hat.  
  
Nick nodded. "Well, since we came this far," he said and gestured to the door, "care to take in some sights?"  
  
Grace opened the doors with a few stokes across the terminal keyboard in front of her. The doors swung open silently and a single light came on. It illuminated a big red button on a podium. They approached it slowly. Grace looked at Nick.  
  
"Chances this'll kill me instantly?" Grace asked, only half kidding as her hand hovered above it.  
  
Nick made a sound of dismissal but then hit the button before she did. Doors in front of them swung open and a tinny recording began playing.  
  
"Is that the Battle Hymn of the Republic?" Grace asked flatly.  
  
"Is that a globe?" Nick replied, equally underwhelmed.  
  
They walked into the chamber and looked around. There were a few display cases, all of which showed everyday items: a bowling ball, a catcher's mitt, a handful of holotapes, and a few shelves of ruined history books.  
  
As Grace looked around the room, her eyes landed on Nick.  
  
"The former citizens of Jamaica Plain and I have very different definitions of treasure," he deadpanned to her.  
  
Grace just shook her head and turned around. It would have been funny if so many people hadn't died for it.  
  
Nick followed her out of the building. 

 

* * *

  
  
Their trip to Somerville Place was, after their detour in Jamaica Plain, uneventful.  
  
A man with a large bushy beard and what looked like a homemade rifle met them on the edge of the homestead. He held up a square and calloused hand to halt their progress.  
  
"Turn 'round and go back the way you came," he said gruffly.  
  
Grace took the power armor helmet off and held it loosely in her left hand.  
  
"This Somerville Place?" she asked and nodded towards the farm behind the man. "We're here to help. I'm with the Minutemen."  
  
The large man lowered his hand and looked at her, "We weren't sure anyone would really come," he said. He sounded like what he meant was that he wasn't sure whether or not to buy her story.  
  
"The Minutemen are always happy to help," Grace said the line as encouragingly as she could. The man's grip on the rifle hadn't slacked. She tried a new tactic. "Why don't you radio the Castle?" she suggested.  
  
The man took a few seconds but finally grunted and turned back to the farm. "Come this way," he said.  
  
Grace and Nick followed him up a sloped road to a small farmhouse settled on the top of the hill. An obviously homebuilt radio antenna stuck out from the roof at an odd angle. Grace looked around the property and saw a small cooking area and a modest field of vegetables beyond that. It didn't seem like there were many people living at Somerville Place.  
  
"Wait here," the man said and he went inside. Grace could hear the man call out a radio sign and a few seconds later a staticky voice responded. She couldn't make out the words, but the conversation was short. The man reappeared at the doorway, without his rifle.  
  
"Could've told me you were the General," he said, tone still rough. Grace shrugged and figured he wouldn't have believed that either.  
  
"Could've told you I was anyone," she said simply. "But now that we're on the same page, what can the Minutemen do for you?"  
  
The man nodded and walked out to stand closer to Grace and Nick.  
  
"There's a family we know, trying to get settled down," he said, "but they got chased out by crawlers."  
  
"Crawlers?" Grace asked.  
  
"Ferals," Nick said from her right side. She nodded.  
  
"Where is this place?" Grace asked.  
  
"Town just northeast of here, called Jamaica Plain," the man said.  
  
"Well you're in luck," Grace said, "we cleared that place out on our way down here."  
  
For the first time, the man's beard twitched, and then Grace saw a full smile grow on his face.  
  
"You Minutemen really don't screw around do you?" he asked.  
  
Grace shrugged, "Just trying to make the Commonwealth a safer place." She paused and then looked at the man carefully. "I hope these friends of yours aren't just trying to find the treasure."  
  
The man shook his head, "Always figured that was a myth," he said. He gestured toward the house in invitation. Grace stepped out of her power armor and looked at Nick. He shrugged.  
  
Grace took that to mean he didn't think this guy would try to kill them.  
  
"It's real," Nick said as they followed the man into the house, "and real disappointing."  
  
"Well I'm grateful you cleared the crawlers out, and my friends will be too," the man said and gestured to a threadbare sofa. Grace looked toward it and saw the tops of two heads peeking over the back.  
  
"My kids, Elliot and Audrey," he said and then stuck out his hand, "I'm Dan, by the way."  
  
Grace and Nick shook Dan's hand and introduced themselves.  
  
"It's getting late," Dan said, "I don't have a lot of room here for guests, but you're welcome to the sofa if you want it." He looked at Nick and then Grace. He seemed to be unsure of how to deal with sleeping arrangements for a synth.  
  
The boy on the sofa suddenly fully sat up so Grace could see his face. "Dad!" he said in a mortified tone only a child would be able to muster, "Robots don't sleep. Jeeze."  
  
Dan's face flushed and he looked harshly at the boy, but Nick chuckled and interjected.  
  
"Your boy's not wrong," Nick said and nodded to the child, who looked delighted. Grace watched the easy interaction with interest.  
  
Could Nick teach her to be good with kids too? She filed this question away for later.  
  
"Well then," Dan said with a broad smile, "welcome to Somerville Place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if this happens for everyone but in my game the guy at Somerville Place is super aggro with Nick, but tbh both Grace and I are tired of that nonsense, so Dan is not going to be like that. Also I couldn't remember if those settlers actually had names and I didn't feel like starting up the game just to find out so I made their names up. 
> 
> (and no, Nick is not afraid of heights.)
> 
> thank you for sticking with me this far!!!!! <3


	11. Fog Tropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Nick get to the Glowing Sea. Grace realizes what it's like to look for a needle in a haystack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Glad you're still with me. 
> 
> Fog Tropes was composed by Ingram Marshall and can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7N2kmjPsSY as well as on Spotify. It's also an incredible piece to listen to for Far Harbor purposes, but the creepy ambiance is also great for the Glowing Sea.

  
Grace hadn't planned on staying at Somerville Place. But, as she spent the next hour watching Nick interact with Elliot and Audrey, she couldn't help but be glad Dan had offered. The two children were obviously elated to have, as they put it, a new robot friend, and for his part Nick seemed to enjoy telling them severely redacted stories from his cases and his recent travels with Grace.  
  
"You have kids?" Dan asked her quietly as she watched Nick reenact the taking of the Castle.  
  
Grace looked at Dan and weighed her options. If she told him no, she'd be lying and she really didn't have reason to. If she told him it wasn't his business, she'd risk offending him and alienating the Minutemen from Somerville Place.  
  
She clenched her jaw and looked at her hands in her lap.  
  
"One," she said.  
  
She didn't know if Dan assumed the worst, but he didn't ask anything else. Instead, Audrey asked Nick what he had done before he became a detective.  
  
"I fixed things in Diamond City," he said. "Anything that was broken."  
  
"Can you fix radios?" Audrey asked him and leaned forward on her hands in eager anticipation of Nick's answer.  
  
"Most of them," Nick said. "Do you have a broken radio?"  
  
Audrey was off like a shot to her father's radio and started pointing out frayed connections and corrosion damage.  
  
"I know what the problems are," she said seriously, "but I don't know how to fix them, and Dad says I'll electrify myself."  
  
"Electro _cute_ ," her brother said. Audrey rolled her eyes at the correction and looked at Nick, who had followed her to the radio.  
  
"Can you fix it, Mr. Nick?" she asked.  
  
"Tell you what," Nick said, "how about Grace and I show you how to fix it safely?" Nick looked over Audrey's head at Grace and Grace felt her face get warm.  
  
"If Dan's okay with it," Grace said hesitantly and looked at the girl's father.  
  
"I wouldn't turn down the help," Dan admitted, "the signal's shaky at the best of times, and I don't have much electrical know-how." He looked at his daughter with a face full of pride and continued, "Audrey here is the one who figured out how to boost the radio signal in the first place." The girl beamed back at him.  
  
"Well now, that was clever of you," Nick said appreciatively.  
  
"We'd be happy to help," Grace said as she stood. The more reliable their radio was, the better they could get into contact with the Minutemen, she figured.  
  
"Well, while you three are doing that, Elliot and I can get some dinner ready," Dan said. He gestured to his son and the two went out of the house towards the cooking area in the front of the house. She heard Elliot's exclamation of wonder at her power armor from the porch and she pushed back a smile. Kids like toys, no matter how big.  
  
Nate had liked power armor too, and he'd always been a kid at heart.  
  
Immediately, she pushed that thought down. No point to going down that road when there were things to fix here. She looked at the radio and then hesitantly joined Nick and Audrey. She looked down at the radio and started making a mental list of problems she could see. She tilted the radio so she could take a look at the back and at the delicate power source. While she inspected the outside, Nick made a list of things that Audrey needed. The girl scurried off in search of the items.  
  
Grace looked at Nick from the corner of her eyes. He pulled his coat off and laid it across the sofa, and then set to work rolling his shirtsleeves up. His right sleeve was easily dealt with, but the left seemed to give him some trouble. His right hand couldn't get good purchase on the cloth.  
  
Grace gingerly set the radio down and turned to Nick. She held out her hands silently and Nick stopped fighting with his sleeve to look at them.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Can I help?" Grace asked, already feeling foolish. Why did she have to open her mouth?  
  
Nick blinked at her and then what she was asking seemed to click. He silently held his arm out and Grace made quick work of the sleeve, rolling it up to sit just below his elbow.  
  
"How's that?" she asked as she adjusted it. She figured he didn't have circulation to cut off, but she still didn't want it to be uncomfortable.  
  
"Fine," he said. His voice was taut, and Grace assumed that he felt as awkward about this as she did.  
  
They both looked at his right arm and the rolled sleeve that was already sliding down toward his exposed hand.  
  
"Want me to, uh," Grace trailed off and gestured toward his right arm. Mutely, he held it out to her. She pulled the sleeve down and started rolling it up to match the first.  
  
"Does it hurt?" she asked, and glanced up at Nick's face to gauge his response.  
  
He was looking very intently at her. She looked back down to her task.  
  
"No," he said and cleared his throat. "No nerves or whatever I have that pass for 'em in the bones."  
  
Grace nodded and was surprised to find just below his right elbow about two inches of full forearm. It looked like the plate that had protected the bottom half of his arm to his wrist had broken away. The edges were ragged.  
  
"Got it!" Audrey exclaimed from the doorway. Grace jumped and yanked her hands away from Nick's sleeve. Audrey seemed unfazed and brought her armful of wire and assorted tools to the sofa.  
  
Grace fought the urge to push her hands into her pockets and looked at the girl.  
  
"Okay, uh, Audrey," Grace said, swallowing the awkward feeling down, "We're going to start by unplugging all the cables and taking off the housing."  


* * *

  
  
The radio had been in pretty bad shape, but with careful instruction from Nick and the occasional pointer from Grace, Audrey had it repaired and working better than it probably had in years.  
  
Dan and Elliot had brought in hearty bowls of stew towards the end of the repair and watched the three work as they ate.  
  
"Mighty fine work," Dan said as Audrey turned the radio on and tested it. "Not even a spark anymore," he smiled.  
  
Grace nodded and stretched her shoulders. She hadn't realized that she'd been hunched over. She picked up her cooled bowl of stew and ate it, silently watching the interactions between the two children and their father. Is this how life would be for her once she found Shaun?  
  
Would she give up her travels and her duties? Her work with the Minutemen and with Nick? Would she be able to settle down?  
  
Did she want to?  
  
"Grace?" Nick asked. She looked up to see that all eyes were on her.  
  
"O-oh, sorry," she looked around. "What did you say?" she asked.  
  
"Was just wondering where you learned to fix things," Dan said, the smile on his face not quite covering the uncertain look in his eyes.  
  
Grace shrugged, "I picked it up here and there," she said. It didn't matter that it had been over a couple of centuries between then and now. The look on Dan's face said he wasn't convinced so she continued, "But I'm learning more from Nick and my other friends all the time." She gestured to Nick and he nodded.  
  
"Used to be a good mechanic in Quincy," Dan said, "you know, before all that nastiness happened. Think his name was Sturgeon, or something like that."  
  
"Sturges?" Grace asked quickly.  
  
"Yeah, that's the name," Dan said with a nod and a few chews of his stew. "He used to help folks get their generators set up. Had a special love for power armor too, now that I think of it. Dunno what happened to him after- well, after." The man's eyes flicked to his children and Grace figured that was his way of indicating that if something had in fact happened to Sturges, that she should be delicate in communicating it.  
  
"Sturges is fine," she said, "he's in Sanctuary now."  
  
"That's good to hear," Dan said. "I'd like to visit Sanctuary one of these days, radio says it's growing fast."  
  
"We'd love to have you," Grace said diplomatically. She wondered what else the radio had to say about Sanctuary. She made a mental note to listen to it more often.  
  
The five of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Nick stood up.  
  
"Pardon me, I'm just going to step outside for a few minutes," he said. Grace got to her feet as well.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" she asked. He gestured toward the door and she led them out. By the time they got to her power armor off the porch, Nick had his cigarettes in his hand and was holding them out to Grace.  
  
"Thanks," she said quietly. She watched through one of the curtainless windows as Dan got the two children ready for bed.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Nick asked. Grace shrugged.  
  
"Haven't seen many pennies around lately," she said. "Might be a collectible now."  
  
"You alright?" Nick asked. Apparently he wasn't in the mood for her to avoid his questions.  
  
"Yeah," Grace said. She looked away from the window and back to him. Between his yellow eyes and the cherry of his cigarette, he was impossible to miss in the dark. She took a deep drag off of her own cigarette and sat down on the front step.  
  
"Just trying to wrap my head around the idea of settling down with a kid, I guess," she admitted.  
  
"Diamond City has a school, you know," Nick said. Grace looked up at him and watched his progress to sit on the step next to her.  
  
"I didn't know that," she said. It made sense that there would be a school for the children that lived there. She should have expected the city to have as much.    
  
"It's not too far from the agency," he said as he looked down at his cigarette, "if you wanted to stick around after you get your boy back."  
  
Grace looked down at the cigarette in her hands. She wasn't sure why, but the offer was like a punch in the gut. Of course she wanted to keep working with Nick. She wanted to keep working with the Minutemen too.  
  
But it wasn't like she could just gallivant off to the ends of the Commonwealth with a kid in tow.  
  
Instead of saying that, she gave Nick a crooked smile and said, "Can't shake me that easy, Valentine."  
  
"Glad to hear it," he said and gave her a small smile back. He sounded like he meant it.  


* * *

  
  
The morning came cold and clear. Before the sun was above the horizon, Grace and Nick were up and ready to head toward the Glowing Sea. Dan saw them to the edge of Somerville Place.  
  
"We'll pass through again in a few days," Grace said. She hoped she wasn't wrong.  
  
"Be careful out there," Dan said, "and thanks again for your help. I'm going to radio my friends and let them know Jamaica Plain is good to go. Should be easier now that the radio isn't trying to catch fire."  
  
Grace nodded and shook his extended hand. "The Minutemen are always happy to help," she said. She was pleased to note that the more often she said the line, the more easily it came. And the more other people seemed to believe her.  
  
As Dan turned back to his farm, Grace pulled up her map and she and Nick started the walk to the edge of the Glowing Sea.  


* * *

  
  
The clear weather didn't last long. It seemed the longer they walked, the less of the sky Grace could see. Even with the restrictive helmet of the power armor on, she felt the atmosphere pushing in on her from all sides.  
  
They crested a hill and Grace's stomach tied itself into knots.  
  
The landscape before her was hideous. What had once been trees were now scorched and twisted shapes sticking out at odd angles from the ground. Pools of what she assumed was irradeated muck swirled in nauseating patterns. A subtle sickly glow emenated from everywhere, and the smell of decay along with something metallic overpowered her.  
  
"Jesus," she breathed. A shape moved in the distance, swirling irradiated fog around it.  
  
"I get the sense whoever named this place didn't have a firm grasp on the meaning of the word 'sea'," Nick said from her side. Grace nodded more to herself than him.  
  
"Wine-dark it ain't," she said in agreement. It was an understatement, to say the least.  
  
"Place like this, even Odysseus woulda turned around," Nick said with a glance up at Grace. Again, he looked like she'd told him a joke. She wondered if that was his way of appreciating literary references.  
  
Grace shrugged as well as she could in the power armor and started toward the edge of the Glowing Sea. The closer she walked, the uglier it got. As they passed underneath the remains of the highway, she realized that it made a sort of natural barrier to the Glowing Sea. After the highway was behind them, the sky was completely blocked by the low-hanging haze and the only light was from the glow. She considered turning on her headlamp but decided against it. She didn't want to attract the attention of whatever that shape in the distance was.  
  
An irrational and claustrophobic feeling twisted its way into her chest. They had to find a man in this? Where would she even start?  
  
She turned and looked back the way they had come. The fog had closed around them, blocking her view of what she knew was significantly clearer air just a few feet behind them. Every cell in her body was willing her to run, to leave this dizzying and horrifying place behind her.  
  
"Hey," Nick said, and she looked at him. "We can do this."  
  
Grace felt cold sweat on her forehead, but she pushed down her panic. She nodded and turned back to the Glowing Sea.  
  
They could do this.  
  
She took a deep breath and willed herself to think logically. If a man was in hiding in a place like this, he'd need shelter. It made sense that he would try to find a structure of some kind.  
  
"There used to be a few big business buildings here, factories I think," she said quietly as they cautiously picked their way over the unstable ground.  
  
"That's a good starting place," Nick said, and it sounded to Grace like he was trying to keep her calm. She hated that he'd noticed her weakness.  
  
Instead of focusing on her embarrassment, Grace tried to place where the buildings had been. She wasn't entirely sure, but she was fairly certain one of them hadn't been too far away from the highway. She pulled up her map and looked at it.  
  
"This way," she pointed after a few seconds. Nick followed her over the ruined ground, over what might have been debris. They carefully went down a pile of rubble and earth to an embankment of a sludgy river. A strange clicking sound registered in Grace's ears and she and Nick crouched down at the same time.  
  
"What's that?" Nick breathed and Grace shook her head.  
  
"No idea," she said.  
  
They stayed still for a few moments before a high-pitched keening broke the silence. A huge shape emerged from the swirling dust- Grace suddenly recognized the haze as the fallout of a bomb- and was tackled by another, larger shape.  
  
"Deathclaw," Grace said, and started slowly backing up. Nick grabbed her arm and shook his head slightly.  
  
Grace followed his gaze and realized the other shape had far too many legs to be a deathclaw.  
  
"Radscorpion," Nick breathed.  
  
Grace watched the two hulking figures on the other side of the glowing river and realized Nick was right. It was a giant scorpion. Its tail thrashed wildly and struck the deathclaw again and again in the abdomen. It seemed to only further anger the deathclaw, which ripped at the scorpion's legs, and sent one flying over towards where she and Nick were crouching.  
  
She felt her heart beating wildly in her chest, but Grace stayed still. The two creatures hadn't noticed them yet.  
  
The deathclaw got a hold of the radscorpion's tail and with a sickening noise, pulled it off with one swift movement. The radscorpion screeched and tried to grab at the deathclaw with its remaining legs, but the stump of its tail spurted blood, and it quickly slowed. The deathclaw batted the twitching thing away and into the river. It sank like a stone.  
  
Grace felt pressure on her arm and realized Nick's hand was still there. She put a hand on his shoulder to alert him to her movement before she reached behind herself and grabbed her sniper rifle. The deathclaw was wounded, but it was still dangerous. She lined up her shot with the thing's wounded torso, breathed out slowly, and squeezed the trigger.  
  
The deathclaw let out a howl of pain and doubled over. It dragged itself to the river, but Grace was already lining up another shot. The second one put the thing down.  
  
For a moment, Grace just stayed where she was, gun at the ready. She was shaken, she knew that much. Giant scorpions? Even uglier and tougher deathclaws? What the hell was she doing here?  
  
"You did good," Nick said. She looked at him and lowered her gun.  
  
"I, uh," she swallowed and her dry throat almost made her gag, "I think I hate this place, Nick."  
  
"Makes two of us," he said and stood. "Let's find Virgil so we can get the hell out of here."  


* * *

  
  
Virgil wasn't in the first half-destroyed building they found. He wasn't in the second one either.  
  
They did manage to find a swarm of ferals and another radscorpion, though the scorpion was thankfully much smaller than the one they had seen fighting the deathclaw.  
  
Grace pulled up her map again and saw by the time that the sun would be going down soon. Not that she could tell in the oppressive ceiling of radioactive fallout hovering above her head.  
  
"We're going to have to find shelter ourselves soon," she said as they walked. She hated to admit it, but the constant stress of the Glowing Sea was unlike anything she'd ever dealt with. It made her feel a different, disoriented kind of tired. She almost stumbled over her own feet as she spoke.  
  
She'd expected Nick to have a witty retort lined up, something about how she went without sleep in the Commonwealth all the time, but he was silent. Grace looked at him and was surprised to see him looking at her.  
  
"Yeah," was all he said, and there was a pinched look around his eyes.  
  
They found what looked like a roof sticking out of the earth a little while later. Grace hoisted herself up onto the platform after Nick. A single elevator shaft stuck out, proud against the flatness around it.  
  
"This place still has juice," Nick said, and nodded towards the flickering button.  
  
"Do we risk it?" Grace asked, not sure if she was asking herself or Nick.  
  
"Might be a good place to bunk down for a few hours," Nick said, but he didn't sound convinced. Grace decided to ignore that he didn't even mention the possibility of Virgil using the one place they'd run across with electricity as a hideout. She wondered if Nick had started to think this was a lost cause.  
  
Instead of saying anything, Grace marched up to the elevator and pressed the button. A few seconds went by before she heard the whirring of gears. The doors opened with a muffled ding.  
  
Grace looked back at Nick and then stepped into the elevator. It groaned under the weight of her power armor, but didn't give. Nick followed her into the small space and looked at the buttons on the console. He pressed the lowest level's button and the doors shut.  
  
And then they were in darkness, save the light put off by Nick's eyes. Though she wasn't comforted by the even more cramped space, or the way the elevator car seemed to sway under its load, Grace found the yellow light reassuring. She tried to not look at him while they descended.  
  
Then the doors opened. Grace peered into the darkness in front of her, and slowly crept out of the elevator car.  
  
"Can't see a damn thing," she heard him mutter behind her.  
  
"Me either- I'm going to turn on my headlamp," Grace said. It would make them targets if anything was down there with them, but at least she'd be able to see it coming.  
  
With the activation of a switch in her heads up display, the bright light flooded over what had once been a level in a parking garage. The shells of cars littered most of the space, and as Grace made her way around them she saw light. She shut her light off and looked back for Nick's glowing eyes.  
  
"There's a fire up here," she said. "Looks like a camp." A thrill ran down her spine. Was this where Virgil was hiding? She fought the urge to stand and run towards the fire in the trash can.  
  
They snuck closer, but as they got close a feral ghoul staggered out from behind a truck. Grace froze. Did ferals have camps?  
  
Before she could decide what to do, Nick had stood and lined up his shot to the thing's abdomen. The sound cracked through the air and the feral dropped. Three more appeared from behind the truck.  
  
"Shit," Grace said under her breath and lined up her own shot. It seemed to take forever. Nick hit another as soon as she squeezed the trigger at a feral running straight at them. She swung around and fired off another round at the final feral. It had cowered beside the truck.  
  
Grace felt sick to her stomach. She'd never seen a feral look afraid before.  
  
Beside her, Nick looked at the carnage with a sad expression.  
  
"Sometimes you can still make out the person in there," he said softly.  
  
Grace clenched her jaw and looked away from him. It wouldn't keep them alive to feel bad for the poor things, no matter how she felt.  
  
"Think there are more?" she asked.  
  
"They'd have come running," Nick said. He looked at her strangely, but she ignored it.  
  
Grace brought her power armor closer to the makeshift camp. She checked the radiation levels and was pleased to see that while they weren't nonexistent, they weren't any higher than most of the Commonwealth.  
  
Quickly, she stepped out of the power armor and reveled in the feeling of air on her skin. Her elation wasn't long-lived.  
  
"Goodness, you look awful," Nick said as she turned toward the fire.  
  
"Ain't exactly like we're on vacation," she retorted, but she felt even more tired outside of the power armor.  
  
"Here," Nick said, and he rummaged through her bag. Grace watched him, wondering what it was he was looking for. "Take these," he put a few pills in the palm of her hand. She did as he asked, and almost instantly began to feel better.  
  
"Well the color's coming back into your face, but," Nick watched her carefully, "you still look ragged. You tired?"  
  
Grace nodded and then looked at the bottle in Nick's hands. It was radaway.  
  
"The radscrubbers," she started, but then remembered the damage her power armor had taken in the taking of the Castle. Had she been taking in radiation all this time? She looked at the armor sitting vacant.  
  
"The legs have damaged panels," she said, understanding all at once what had happened.  
  
"That'll do it," Nick replied. "You'll have to up your rad-x dosage when we go up again, probably radaway too. You got more of these?" he shook the bottle.  
  
"Yeah, in my bag," Grace said. The fog was lifting from her mind and she realized how much the radiation had been effecting her.  
  
Of course the damage to the power armor would let radiation in. How could she have been so stupid? Half to busy herself and half because she felt exhausted, she laid out her sleeping bag, and took note of how sluggishly her hands moved.  
  
It was lucky that there hadn't been more ferals, she probably wouldn't have moved fast enough to take down a horde of them.  
  
"You get some shuteye, I'll keep an eye out," Nick said as she finally got her sleeping bag open.  
  
"Thanks," she mumbled as she laid down. If Nick responded, she was asleep before she heard it.  


* * *

  
  
Her eyes opened to the flickering light of the dying fire. She'd had a dream about Nate, again. Grace scrubbed a hand down her face and grimaced at the dried salt there. The tracks down her face and into the stubble on her scalp told her it wasn't just from her exertion the previous day.  
  
She wished she could stop dreaming about him.  
  
Grace sat up slowly and looked around. Nick was sitting a few feet away from her, against a concrete barrier. He seemed to have not noticed she'd woken up.  
  
"Nick?" she asked, voice scratchy from sleep.  
  
Nick didn't move. Grace's pulse picked up. Was something wrong? Had something happened while she was asleep?  
  
She stood and went to where he was sitting. She crouched next to him and put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Nick?" she asked louder, and his eyes snapped to her own.  
  
"What- you say something?" he asked, too loudly.  
  
Grace's eyebrows pulled down in confusion and she didn't take her hand off of his shoulder as she asked, "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Nick said, waving her off. "Just-" he sighed and looked toward the dying fire in the trash can. "Sorry, uh, get flashes from old Nick's life every now and then." He looked back at her and gave a half-hearted chuckle, "Guy sure spent a lot of time in sandwich joints."  
  
"Must have been one hell of a sandwich," Grace said, a return half-smile on her face. She had a feeling that if that memory really had been about a sandwich shop, she'd eat Nick's hat. She scrubbed at her face again and decided against prying. It was none of her business, after all.  
  
Nick shook his head and looked over at her, "How're you feeling?"  
  
"Fine," she said, "the radaway did the trick."  
  
Nick nodded and stood, pulling her up with him.  
  
"Let's get moving, then," he said.  
  
It didn't take them long to get packed and out of the parking deck. As they exited onto the roof of the structure, Grace took the opportunity to take a good look around. A large hill loomed in the distance that Grace was certain hadn't been there two hundred years ago.  
  
"Vantage point from up there?" Grace pointed to the landmark.  
  
"Right behind you," Nick said.  


* * *

  
  
As they climbed up the side of the hill, Grace felt slightly better being higher up. Even though the haze hadn't lifted, the simple fact that she could see further from higher up was a relief.  
  
Her goal of using the top of the hill as a vantage point was soon forgotten when they reached the top.  
  
"Oh god," she said and looked down into the crater. She looked up, and toward the north. Such a short distance between where she was standing and Sanctuary.  
  
How had they survived that flash of light?  
  
Grace shook her head and forced herself to be back in the present moment. Nick was shaking his head.  
  
"Goodness. Must be where the bomb hit," he said.  
  
"Are those- are there people living here?" Grace asked, peering down into the crater. It was hard to tell against the harsh glow of the crater, but it looked like there were structures.  
  
"Ghouls?" Nick asked.  
  
Grace pulled her sniper rifle from her shoulder and held it to the visor of ther helmet.  
  
"I don't think so, Nick," she said as she focused and followed one of the people milling around in the crater. She lowered her rifle and looked at him. "Who would live here?"  
  
Nick's eyebrows drew down as he thought, and Grace saw the moment the idea hit him.  
  
"Children of Atom," he said.  
  
"Friendly?" Grace asked.  
  
"Depends on the day," he said darkly and looked down on the Children. "But, there's a good chance that if Virgil isn't here, they know where he is."  
  
"Let's hope it's a friendly day," Grace said and slung her rifle over her shoulder.  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you!!


End file.
